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RURAL POETRY. 



RURAL POETRY. 



BY ANDREW BUCHANAN. 



*< Grant me, indulgent GocU! with mind serene, 
And guiltless heart, to range the„sylvan scene. 
There pleasing objects useful thoughts suggest; 
The sense is ravish'd, and the goul is blessed. 
On every thorn deh'ghtful wisdom grows; 
In every rill a sweet instruction flows/* Youkg. 



STIRLING: 

PKINTED, FOn THE AUTHOR, BY J. FRASEH. 

SOLD BY W. BLACKWOOD, EDINBURGH; IVf. OGLE, GLASGOW; 

J. FORMAL, STIRLING; J. PEDDIE, PERTH; W. MCDONALD 

AND J. LAIRD, CRIEFF. 

«/W^ V% V* ^/V 

1817. 



T> 



'JL 6 n'/^ 



/ 



L 



PREFACE. 



The Jolloxii?ig Poems were occasionally tvrit* 
ten during the scanty intervals of a laborious 
eraployment^ and owe tJmr preseni appearance 
before the PiibKc to a respectable list of Sub* 
scriberSy to whom the Author returns his most 
grateful tlianks. He has not enjoyed the aid qf 
literature, nor indeed any other guides except 
the ear, in the composition of his verses; and 
tJwrefore hopes the candid reader xcill not rigor- 
ously demand of him the pure diction of the clas* 
sical scholar. 

To the man of taste and literature he boxvs 
xcith all the deference due to superior intellect; 
he is perfectly aware that to such his volume will 
appear with 7iot a few defects. He has 7iot in- 
tentionally written any thing inconsistent with 
Christia7i 7norality^ or the rational love of his 
country; and if they afford a little harmless 
amusement to those who, like himself tread 



( vi ) 

the vale of Immble life, their publicatlo7i mil 
not be altogether useless. 

He hopes the design of the poem entitled 
*' Rough Reform'^ ivill not be mistaken ; — he is 
a hearty friend to peaceful^ prudent Reforrna- ^ 
tion, either in Church or State; and it is on- 
ly the dfcadfid idea of Reform hij violent means 
he endeavours to reprobate, 

Crieff, i 
MtkJuly, I8I7.3 



ERRATA. 

Page 31, line 15, for ** She, s^he,'' read ** See, she.'* 
p. 39, /. 19, lor '^ rigkliy," read '' rapidly," 
J), 53, 1 23, for " light," read '* night/' 
p. '54, /. 12, for " veil," read *' vale." 
p 54, /. 17. for *« watfci,*' read '' woes/' 
J). SO, /. 21, for ''frae," read '' from/' 
p. SOj /. 22, for <* waes," read *» woes.** 



CONTENTS. 



Emigration, a dialogue, 9 

To Public Spirit, .....22 

To Pity, 24 

To the Lark, 26 

To the Morning Star, 28 

To Hope, 31 

To the Cuckoo, 33 

Cottager's Reflections on visit- 
ing the scenes of his youth 36 

To Friendship, ..39 

Expostulation, 41 

To Health, 42 

Epistle to a Student, 1816, 44 

To Content, 46 

To Gold, 49 

To the Bee, 50 

To the Evening Star, 53 

To a Child, 55 

Epistle to a Poetical Friend 57 
Second Letter to a Poeti- 
cal Friend, 61 

Peace anticipated, — 1813, 62 
Ode written at the close of 

1815, 65 

Verses at the commence- 
ment of 1816, 67 

To a Unitarian Preacher,... 70 

To Independence, 72 

To Peace,— 1815, 74 



I Parody on Gray*s Elegy,...76 

' The Rhymer's Lament, 81 

Rough Reform, a dialogue 83 

A Crieff Fair, 95 

Epistle to a Student, — Ja- 
nuary 1817, ..98 

The Fate of Mary, ...99 

Lines Extempore,. Ill 

The Fatal Warning,., 112 

Frazer, a Death-Song,.. ..115 

On a Noisy Precentor, 116 

Epitaph on a faithful Mi- 
nister of the Gospel,... 117 
Verses addressed to a Ce- 
lebrated Preacher, 118 

Reflection on Psalm Ixxxiv. 

10 120 

Hymn to the Deity,. 121 

Paraphrase on John vi 37. 125 
Lines on the death of my 

Son...... 127 

Reflection on the same 

subject, ib* 

Isaiah chap. xxxv. para- 
phrased, 128 

View of Upper Strathearn, 

from Turlom, 130 

To Sickness 143 

Conclusion,.. 144 



RURAL POETRY. 



Emigration. 

A DIALOGUE, IN SCOTTISH VERSE. 



" O place me in some heavenrprotected isle, 
Where Peace, and Equity, and Freedom smile.*' 

COWPER. 



Sandy bad risen wi' the Lark, 

An* was fii' cheery at his wark, 

When comin* up the loan he saw 

His cousin Geordy very braw; 

Yet in his face he thought there stood 

A though tfu' melancholy mood, 

As if wi* secret woe oppressed; 

Yet blythely thus he him addressed:— 

SANDY. 

Guid mornin', Geordy; howga^s a'? 
I hardly kent ye, grown sae braw. 
Whare are ye gaun the day sae air? 
I'nfi sure its no to kirk or fair. 
1 thought ye had begun the plewin% 
But now I thinlf ve*re for the wooin'; 

B. 



10 RURAL POETRY. 

That ye^re in love I'll gie my alth, 
Ye're clad sae weel in bravv braid claith. 
I hope ye will successfu' prove, 
An' get a kind return o* love. 

GEORDY. 

Na, Sandy, wooin's no the thing 
That maks me early on the wing; 
But Henry 's come frae India, 
An' or a month he's gaun awa. 
Losh! man, he*s made a vast o' cash 
In that braw land, wi' little fash; 
An' I hae taen an unco notion 
To try my luck ayont the ocean; 
I'm thus far on my road to see him, 
To try if I can bargain wi' him. 
My mither's 'gainst it very sair; 
My father disna greatly care. 
He thinks the thing that's very true. 
There's naething makin' at the plew; 
An' Henry says, a cautious chiel 
In that fair land does unco w^eeJ, 
An' that (ye ken) he'll ne'er do here 
Whare ilka thing 's confounded dear, 
If there, I shortly wad grow rich. 
An* male a fortune in a twitch. 
What think ye, friend? — for I cam here 
Your very best advice to speer. 

Ay, Geordy lad, I didna ken 
That ye was in the travelling vein; 
Yet if I thought your plan were right 



RURAL POETRY. H 

rj second it wi* a* my might; 

But think, my friend, before ye gae. 

What guid ye get for what ye lae; 

Come weigh the odds, nor rashly gang 

Wild beasts and savages amang. 

Ye lae a land o' mental light 

For Superstition's blackest night, 

Your native land o* love and peace. 

The happy scene o' gospel grace, 

Ye lae to awall Mnang hardened Jews, 

Turks, Infidels, and fierce Hindoos. 

'Auld Scotland's bloomin' vallies fair 

Ye lae for sickly Indian air; 

Ye grieve your friends and cross the main, 

A JittiC Cash is a' ye gain. 

Alas! how dear a bargain 's w^ealth 

When /ot at the expence o' health* 

Thouscinds to^ Ind a hae gane, 

Nae man' to see tneir native hame. 

What signifies a little gain 

When laid upon a bed of pain! 

Far irae a soothing fiiendly face 

To bid your fears and languor cease. 

Or kind relations' fonder care, 

An' Scotland's healthy mountain air. 

Thae chields 'bout foreign lands that bla* 
They neveptell their fauts ava. 
But ay their bonny side relate. 
Puir Ignorance soon grips the bait 
That hauls her headlong to her fate. 
I trow ye ne'er heard Henry tell 
About their savage monsters fell. 
Their rivers swarm wi' alligators. 



} 



12 ra^RAL VoETIlY* 

Their woods are fu^ o' ugly satyrs, 
Death, frowning, rides the sultry breeze, 
An' puggies girn frae aff their trees; 
While ilka cave an^ lanely brake 
Conceals a frightfu' deadly snake. 
Fierce lions watch their steps behind. 
An* tygers snuff them in the wind, 
While the fell lynx' and panther's cry, 
"Waukens the midnight lullaby. 
How dull at evenin' there your lane. 
To mind the rural scenes o' hame, ' 

Whare, fearless, aft at dewy gloaniin' 
Thro' Scotland's woods fu' careless roamin' 
Ye heard the woodlark's plaintive note, 
When wand'rin' slowly to your cotj 
An' here, on misty Simmer morn. 
How sweet to view the springin' corn! 
Clear dew-draps crownin' ilka blade; 
How sweet the green, v/i' gowans clad, 
When ilka bill and flow'ry knowe 
Keflects the mornin's ruddy glow. 
An' frae the copse or blossom'd thorn 
The lintie gayly hails the morn. 
An' whan the day grows warm an' high 
To mossy grottos sweet to fly. 
Beneath the gloom o' drippin' rock, 
Wi' ivy green, an' crow^n'd v/i" oak. 
There let me .sit, an' muse alane. 
Till noontide heat is fairly gane. 
Or by the edge o' shady stream, 
O' fays or fairies let me dream; 
O' spectres an' hobgoblins fell, 
The theme o' minstrels like niysell. 



RURAL POETRt. 13 

Or, wancVrin' through my native woods, 
* Mark how the sun unfaulds the buds, 
Whare the green ivy and woodbine. 
Around the ehns and ashes twine; 
And then my frame securely stretch jj 

Beneath the shade o' glossy beech, 
An' hear the tenants o' the shade | 

Carol their artless serenade, f 

Syne tune my woodland harp and sing, ^ 

Till ilka sleepin' echo ring. 

GEORDY. 

Ay, l^andy, weel ye like to sing 

About our cheerfa' pleasant spring. 

But there they say its ever gay 

As it is here in June or May; 

Aye green an' shady are their bowers, 

Their vallies ever crown'd wi' flowersj 

AnS save a shower o' rain or tv>^a, 

They hae nae winter there ava. 

How different here ! pale Winter lours, 

An* quickly fade the shades and bowersj « 

Sleet, frost, and snaw^ is a* the cheer M 

Vie hae five months o* ilka year. ' ™ 

SANDY. 

When ilka thing about the farm 
Is weel secvu^'d frae Winter^s harm, 
Then cauld November's rain and sleet 
Just gars us prize the Simmer^s heat. 
When iang December nights set in. 
An* storms o* drift and snaw begin. 
We bar the door against the storm^ 
B 3 



14 &URAL POETRY. 

An* round the lire a circle form, 
Then hear auld curious Granny tell 
*Bout mony an unco witchcraft spell, 
Brisk fliiry tricks and brownies* wark, 
An* spunkies blinkin* through the dark; 
Or bear her sing, in mournfu* mood, *) 

About the Babes in lanely wood, > 

Left by the wretch wha sought their blood. } 
Or if a theme that*s mair refined 
Wad better suit the thoughtfu* mind, 
Then mark on Truth's historic page 
The guid and ill o* every cge, 
An* how through a* their windin* lines, 

A Providence divinely shines. 

Or hear great Milton sing sublime 
*Bout Eden and the birth o* Time; 

An* tell how Hornie, (spirit vile! 

Did fair unthinkin* Eve beguile, 

An* got her and her future race 

Exil*d frae that enchantin* place; 

Or muse ovv^re Pope*s harmonious pajge; 

Or Cowper's numbers, tunefu* sage! 

That sweetly sang, to please the fair, 

The birth o' soffa, stool and chair. 

(Religion*s bard! thy pious strain 

Reclaims the lest, arrests the vain; 

While Fancy, Wit, and Genius join 

To form thy rapt^^ous song divine.) 

Or if ye lo'e the Scottish Muse, 

Ye*ve naething but to pick and chuse. 

J^Jark! its auld Ossian*s harp that rings; 

Sublimely sweet he sweeps the strings: 

Still, in his never-dying song, 



RURAL 'POETllY. 15 

Gigantic Fingal strides along. 

Auldfarren Henry shall ye tell 

How awfu* Wallace bure the bell, 

And 'midst the field o* slaughter stood 

Wi' armour dyed in south'ren blood. 

Syne Ramsay, Ferguson, or Burns, 

Ye may tak up an' read by turns, 

Or recent bards o' famous note. 

Like Scottish Virgil, Walter Scott; 

Or Campbell's nervous flowing'lay, 

Eneugh to steal the soul away; 

Or fam'd Montgomery, wise and good, 

Wha sings o' warlds afore the flood; 

How Jubal fand the Muse's bower, 

Who taught him Song's enchantin' power. 

The heart in w^illing chains to bind. 

An' charm the fathers o' mankind. 

Or Ettrick's wildly warblin' swain, 

Excelled by nane on a' the plain; 

Wha sings o' Royal Mary's Vv^ake 

In strains wad made her bosom ake 

Alternately wi' hope an' fear. 

An' dew'd her roses wi' a tear. 

Or that wise chield they ca' MacNeil, 

Wha Scotland's Skaith has sung sae weel. 

An' tells, in tunefu' heamil rhyme. 

How Scotsmen liv'd in bygane time, * 

Wha novf, alas! are grown,sae braw. 

They eat an' drink an' spend it a'. 

There's mony mae sic like, forbye, 
Wha wake the lyre to rapture high. 
Thus sweetly pass our winter nights. 
Till supper things be set to rights. 



i 

1 



IG RURAL POETRY. 

Then fpast, vvi^ thankfa* blythe content, 
On what kind Providence has sent; 
An* gie the kye and horse their due. 
And syne behaud, wi' raptured view, 
Each little star that decks the lift 
Dim twinklin through the whirlin dritl, 
An^ whyles the moon, fair Queen o* night ! } 
Shoot through the storm her usefu' light, > 
To cheer the lanely trav'ler^s sight. } 

Then calm retire an* bar the door 
Against the howlin* wintry roar, * 

An* reverent worship Heaven*s King, 
Wha walks upon the tempest*s wing; 
Syne slip fu* canny to our beds. 
While Sleep her poppies round us sheds. 

When past the storm and shades o* night. 
Then what a glorious shining sight! 
The landscape drest in spotless white 
Inspires wi* innocent delight; 
Deep snawy wreaths the valley fills. 
An* deeds wi* ermine robe the hills 
That catch sublime the mornin* rays 
O* Phoebus gleamin* thro* the haze. 
The redbreast, banish*d frae the field,, 
About the houses seeks a bield; 
First fearfu* flits about the door. 
Syne briskly gumps along the floor, 
An* chaunts a cheerfu* Simmer lay 
His Winter lodgings to repay. 
The threshin* owre, an* cattle fed, 
We hie awa to curlin* glad. 
Thus free o* care an* fear an* a*, 
Our cheery Winter slips awa; 



RURAL POETRY, 17 

Soon bloomin' Spring bursts on the view. 
An* sets us afFto baud the Plew, 

In thae far warlds ye think sae braw, 
Though seldom fash'd vvi* frost and snaw, 
Yet Geordy lad your far mistaken 
If ye o* lastin* Sunmer dream. 
Their wild tornadoes, fiercely driving 
I greatly fear wad spill your thrivin', 
Frae every airth the tempest flees. 
An* mingles air an* earth an* seas; 
Tears up hale forests in its course, 
An* blawsthe riggin affyour house j 
Wi' that a spout o' water fa*s 
An* soops awa the very w^a*sj ' 

An' ilka thing for mojny a rood. 
Is carried down the roarin* flood. 
Nae house nor hald to scoug the blast! 
How Geordy would you stand aghast 
To hear the pealing thunders roll, 
An* lightnings flash frae pole to pole, 
While earthquakes shake the frighted shore^. 
An* furious ocean joins the roar. 
An* a* your gowden prospects fair 
Hurl down the gulf o* black despair. 
Sic storms as these and rainy weather 
They hae ilk year for iDonths thegither; 
And now, my friend, ye'U hardly venture 
To ca* this but a sham o* winter. 

GEORDY. 

Na, Sandy lad, if that*s tlie case 
I trow its no sae guid a place. 
To see his a* gaun wi* the spate 



18 RURAL POETRY. 

Wad ggr a chiekl leuk unco blate. 

I winna gae, i.f thus perplext 

Wi< folk an' beasts, an* tempests vextj 

Yet after a' I maist think shame 

Ance to propos't, then stay at hamej 

Far sooner would I gae awa 

A while to North America, 

Whare Rab Carwhin, and Pate, his brither, 

An* Jock, are a* turned lairds thegither. 

There I might get a cheap bit farm 

An* ne*er a beast to do me harm. 

SANDY. 

Ay, but there is, I can assure ye, 
Beasts not a few cou'd soon devour ye, 
Nor can I see your gain ava 
Though ye were in America, 
For there, I trow, there's mony ane 
Wha, if they could, wad soon come hamej 
But then their siller's a' in land, 
An* nane to tak it afF their hand, 
Sae they maun stay an* fondly dream 
Owre a* the joys they left at hame. 
They want, besides, (that's warst ava) 
The strong protecting arm o* law 
To gie the injured due redress. 
Nor let the strong the weak oppress. 
An* though- their laws were just as guid 
As ony heard o* since the flood. 
They canna bind, wi* proper vigour. 
The wild untutor*d treach*rous Niger, 
Wha taks your goods when want pursues him. 
An* cuts ye down if ye refuse hime 



RURAL POETRY. 19 

Nae doubt, wi' money in your hand, 
Ye soon may get a cheap bit land, 
Providin* that you like to gae 
Back twathree hundred miles or sae/ 
An* there beside some lanely river, 
Tak up your dwallin* place for ever; 
But then its covered owre wi* wood. 
As ancient as auld Noah*s flood. 
To cut it down maun be your care, 
For mony years, baith late and air; 
Thus spend your days in clearinVbogs 
An* cuttin* w^ood an* holin* clogs. 
An* widin* on *mang snakes and vermin. 
At every step your fears alarniiin*; 
Without a friend to cheer your labour. 
Be wise and stay at hame, dear neighbour. 
For its owTe late, when there, to mind 
The lovely scenes ye left behind; * 

Whare aft ye wont, on hallow*d day, 
^yi* willing feet, to wend away. 
At sound o* bell, wi* due repair, 
To worship in the house o* prayer. 
The thought o* this wad mak ye sigh. 
An* lift a sad deplorin* eye 
*Mang wilds unmeasur*d stretch*d around. 
That never heard the joyful sound. 
Your native vale and broomy braes, 
Whare cheerfu* pass*d your youthfu* days. 
Will smile wi* twice ten thousand charms. 
For ever vanish *d frae your arms. 
For, settled there, ye maun stand too 
Whether ye like to bide or no; 
While a* your dreams o* gear and riche 



go RURAL POETRY- 

Vanish at ance like tricks o* witches* 
An' sure he's dreamin' wha expects 
Great happiness 'rnang savage bleck?. 

GEORDY. 

VoAv man, I ne'er had sic a view 
O* things as I hae got frae you; 
1 think, for a' the length I've gane> 
I'd better turn and wander hame. 

SANDY. 

Ay, dosaeGeordy; never fear 
But that ye'll get eneugh o' gear; 
For meat a^d claise ye'Ji never want; 
Nor need ye be o' siller scant. 
Steer clear o' that infernal itch 
O* scrapin' hard to be thought rich. 
For happiness lies not in wealth, 
But in sweet peace, content and health. 
Be wi' your native land content: 
Of this my friend ye'll ne'er repent. 
Some grumblin' discontented saul 
Sets off forthwith for Montreal, 
Pronounces them a' fools and frantic 
' Wha wait on this side th' Atlantic, 
Nor does he ever stay to think, 
Till landed on St Lawrence' brink, 
An' round him sees a w^arld o' wark. 
An' toilworn men stript to the sark. 
Snake haunted wilds and thickets reddia' 
An' kebars for their hovels sneddin'; 
There he himsell maun just fa' too 
An* work as here he us'd to do; 



RURAL POETRY. 21 

His travel, time and siller lost, 

The blockhead soon learns, to his cost, 

What he lang syne might learned at school. 

That lie was a consummate fool. 

Were Kirk and State and Press enslaved, 

I own it wad be right to leav*t, 

An* try to find some better placej 

But nane o' thae things is the case. 

No— every thing that's guid is free. 

On every hand, frae sea to sea. 

An' nae thing do our laws restrain. 

But evil deeds o' evil men. 

Sae ne'er believe thae clishmaclavers 

'Bout foreign lands — just perfect havers. 

Invented by a set o' fellows 

Whase doings weel deserve the gallows. 

To vex poor folk wi' discontent 

Is a^ their aim and hale intent. 

Oh ! Scotland, lovely are thy woods. 
Green flow'ry howes an' shining floods, 
When Spring and Simmer paint thy plains. 
An* Hope elates thy trusty swains. 
How blythe thy rustling reapers sound, 
When canty Hairst is smilin' round. 
An' \dien grim Winter rides the air. 
An' lays thy fields and forests bare, 
Plac'd in some lanely cliff on high. 
Let me behaud the tempest fly. 
An* hear the dashing billows roar 
Around thy rocky wave-worn shore. 
Oh! Winter, nurse o' solemn thought. 
By thee to calm reflection brought, 
I see a great Almighty Power 

C 



22- RURAL POETRY. 

Direct the storm, distil the shower, 
Gie Spring her robe o' cheerfu* green, 
Cool Simmer wi* a sylvan screen. 
An* frae his all-supporting hand 
Pour plenty owre thy happy landj 
Commanding cruel war to roar 
Far frae our heaven-protected shpre. 
An* granting Revelation's ray, 
A guide to never-ending day. 
Sae let wha will o' trav^lin' dream, 
Auld Scotland still shall be my hame. 

Hame Geordy gaed, an* at the term 
He teuk a snod weel lyin* farm. 
An* got a thrifty prudent wife. 
An* pass*d in peace his usefu' life. 



To Public Spirit. 

Sordid Selfishness, away- 
Public Spirit! speed thy coming; 
Envy shuns thy potent ray. 
Low deceit and crooked cunning. 

Hear the family of Pain 
Still thy powerful aid solicit; 
Let them not implore in vain. 
Kindly deign a gracious visit* 

Prudence waits to lead the way^ 
Zeal hex flaming torch displaying, 



RURAL POETRY. 23 

Meek Compassion's milder ray, 
Love that never brooks delaying. 

See the poor.unpitied slave, 
'Neath the knotted scourges kneeling, 
Stretch thy powerful arm to save, 
Crush the wretches void of feeling. 

Mark the dungeon tenant, poor, 
Victim of ungracious usage J 
His the sad unsocial hour. 
Anxious heart and meagre visage. 

They who cause his cruel smart. 
Gay in thoughtless pleasure living. 
Melt their hard unfeeling heart 
Make them gentle and forgiving. 

Mark the tyrants' haughty frown, 

Vilhuns high in power and station. 

Hurl the huinan monsters down. 

Break the rod of vile oppression. ^ 

See Ambitions' crimson car 
Still Its deathful way pursuing. 
Where she sits, with frowning War, 
Planning scenes of woe and ruinj 

In their eye fell envy lurks. 
Urging on their restless fever. 
Come, and from fair Nature's works, 
^Raze their hated names for ever. 

See wild Superstition's sway. 
False delusive peace bestowing; 



/ 



24j rural poetry. 

Sottish Ignorance her prey, 
Prone to senseless idols bowing. 

Grim her blood-stain*d devoteeSj^ 
Altars sacred to destruction. 
Love her horrid temple flees. 
Public Spirit! send instruction. 

Free the poor bewildered racej 
Crush their priestcraft, vain and idlej 
Guide them to the Prince of Peace j 
Send them thy best gift, the Bibkii 

Thus to scatter blessings round, 
Gen'rous power to thee is given; 
Virtue cherish, Vice confound. 
Then ascend thy native heaven. 

Love shall then supply thy place. 
From her lofty sphere descending. 
And unite the human race 
In sweet concord, »ever ending. 



To Pity. 

Gentle Pity! welcome here; 
Well I know thee by that tear. 
By that gently rising sigh. 
By that glistening downcast eye. 
Such thy look as angels throw 
On us mortals here below, 



RURAL POETRt# 25 



So the lily bends its head. 
Marking minor flowrete fade. 

Gentle Pity! deign to dwell 
In my low sequestered cell. 
Cherub of celestial birth ! 
Often deign to visit Earth; 
Kindly soothe the sufferer's pain; 
Loose the captive's galling chain. 
When pale want and sickness lour 
In the chambers of the poor. 
Visit them, O melting maid! 
Hover o'er the dvinsc bed. 
Thou canst many ills redress; 
Thou canst make our sorrows less; 
Thou canst soothe the orphan's plaint; 
Cheer the wanderer, weak and faint; 
Hush the drooping mourner^s moan; 
Take the houseless stranger home. 
While thy tender accents flow 
Smiles illume the face of woe. 

Gentle Pity! deign to dwell 
In my low sequestered cell. 
"VYhen the battle rages loud, 
^Neath a smoky sulphurous cloud, 
And the trumpet's swelling strain 
Drowns the piercing cry of pain; 
When the wounded and the dying 
On the bloody plain are lying; 
Where, O Pity ! are you then ? 
Fly to the ensanguin'd plain. 
Thou canst soften hearts of steel; 
Teach the men of blood to feel. 
C 3 






26 RURAL POETRY. 

There the father — husband, lies, 
Mad ambition's sacrifice; 
Blooming youths resign their breath 
♦Midst the wreck of woe and death j 
There the lover*s tender fires 
Rudely quenched in blood expiresj 
Thousands all unnoticM sink. 
Teach the sons of war to think 
0*er the widowed mothier^s sighs; 
0*er the wailing orphan's cries; 
0*er the virgin^s mournful strain; 
0*er the parent's hope in vain. 
Picture these before them fresh- 
Turn their hearts of stone to flesh. 
Thus, O heaven-descended maidl 
Every human breast pervade, 
Till ambition^s frenzy cease; 
Till the endless reign of peace. 
Then the loud acclaim of praise 
Mankind to thy name shall raise; 
Gratitude, with streaming eyes, 
Glad shall hail thee to the skies; 
There, dissolved in purest love, 
Thou shalt reign supreme above. 
Then, from this sequestered cell, 
Raise me up with thee to dwell. 



To the Lark. 

Wee merry minstrel o' the dawn, 
Up'Springin' frae the daisied lawn, 



RURAL rOETRY. 27 

VVhare dewy gems, profusely sawn, 
Glance on the sight, 

When Night*s black curtains backw^ard drawn 
Displays the light. 

Unkend to Care's embittered fang, 
Aye cheery flows your early sang, 
Unfelt, unfear'd the venom 'd stang 

O' cruel pain. 
Foul fa^ the hand wad do thee wrang. 

Or spill thy strain. 

Now, slowly, owre the mountain top, 
Gray skiffs o^ mist in ether float, 
And, roused by thee, ilk tunefu' throat 

Rings thro* the woods, 
While, far aboon, is heard your note 

Amang the cluds. 

What power unseen can thus inspire 
Thae notes o* thine that never tire! 
Sweet melodist! nae mortal lyre 

"^ Can match thy lay. 

When,, warm- wi* Nature's native fire. 
Ye hail the day. 

Perhaps when thus ye climb the sphere 
The hymns o* heaven ye v/hyles may hearj 
The cadence sweet may reach your ear, 

O* song sublime. 
Which, ilka morn, attracts ye near 

That blissfu* clime. 

Like they, wi* gratefu* heart, ye sing 
The praise o* Nature's bounteous King 



28 RURAL POETRY. 

Wha weaves the bloomin* robe o* spring 
Wi* countless dies; 

An* taught ye thus^ on soaring wing. 
To seek the skies. 

Maun ye alane the silence break, 
And raptured own what a^ partake, 
An* Man nae joyfu' anthem wake 

O* praise, like thee. 
To Him wha suffered for his sake 

Upon the tree. 

Forbid it, Gratitude and Love I 
Ye twinklin* gems that roll above 
Shew forth His gloiy as ye move, 

Baith Sun and Moon, 
' Ilk fountain^ river, hill and grove, 

His praise attune. 

Ye brut^ tribes your homage bring, 
Ye feathered choirs o^ every wing, 
Wi* favor'd men, unite to sing 

His mighty name; 
At dawning morn and day's decline 

Renew the theme* 



*^^v^»%* 



Address to the Morning Star. 



^ 



Bright forerunner of the sun, 
Star of Morning! haste and comey 
Come from thy mysterious bower. 
Glad to cheer the moi'ning hour, 



nURAL POETRY. 29 

Now when fresherbreathes the gale 

O'er the hill and o*er the vale. 

Now when every dewy spray 

Nods a welcome to thy ray. 

Now the Lark, on vigorous wing, 

Mounts aloft thy praise to sing, * 

And the twinkling orbs around, 

Beckoning through the blue profound, ' 

Seem in fancy's ear to say 

* Come, bright wonder! come away.* 

Yet, alas! unmingled bliss 
Dwells not in a world like this. 
Those there are to whom thy ray 
Ushers in a dreadful day: 
Felon, through his grated door, 
Marks the moonbeam on the floor. 
Starts, and oft mistakes thy ray 
For the dawn of fatal day, 
Come to seal his awful doom. 
(Wretched man! 'twill come too soon.) 
Ah! 'twould ease his speechless pain 
Were you ne'er to rise again; 
Would dun Night, with deepest cover. 
Veil this hated morn for ever. 

Drown'd in sleep the wretched ly, 
Morning wakes them but to sigh. 
Vain thy beam — no blest to-morrow 
Dawns upon the child of sorrow. 
Yet there are, (sweet Nature's shame,) 
Men who hate thy lovely beam; 
Yes — there are who flee the light, 
Sons of violence and night. 
Falt'ring guilt, (fair Virtue's scorn,) 



S0 RURAL POETRV. 

Shrinks before the eye of mornj 
And the midnight debauchee 
Never spends a thought on thee; 
No — he shames the sober moon; 
Staggers home and sleeps till noon. 
Fashion's votaries, whim-inspir'd, 
Now, just now, to rest retired, 
Morriino;*s beamv diadem 
Has no charm at all for them; 
Midnight ball and glimmering taper. 
Mirth and music please them better. 
Pleasures these that x\Q\^r cloy; 
Bliss supreme, without alloy. 
Peace to such, who dream they live. 
All the pc ace that sound can give; 
Why should Reason's sober beam 
E*er intrude to spoil their dream? 
Yet though such neglect thy ray. 
Come, fair star! yet come away. 
Now the buglers early swell 
Wakes the tenants of the vale; 
See, his dreamless slumbers o^er, 
Blooming shepherd, at his door, 
Views the east with wistful eyes. 
Lovely star ! to hail thy rise; 
And the nymph, with beechen pail, 
Skims with dewy feet the dale. 
Now the Poet, w^ayward still. 
Wanders wild the thy my hill. 
Rapt in dreams of spectre fell. 
Haunted hall, or fairy dell. 
When thy lustre meets his eye 
Wildest tones of minstrelsy 




RURAL POETRY* ^ 

Die afar along tlie wold 

From his harp of antique mold. 

Labour, as he yokes the team, 

Eyes with silent joy thy beam; ] 

Exercise and Health are seen ^ 

Bounding o*er the flow'ry green; * 

And the cock, with trumpet shrilly I 

Calls thee from behind tliy hill. \ 

Bright forerunner of the sun. 

Star of Morning! haste and come. 



To Hope. 

Grim Despondency! away — 
Genile Hope, again returning. 
Mild forbids your longer stay. 
Bright her beamy lamp is burning. 

She. she waves her magic wand. 
Straight arise, in fair procession. 
Future joys, a lovely band. 
In a long and gay succession. 

" Yield not to despair," she cries, 
^* Though to-day be dim with sorrow; 
Soon shall fairer scenes arise; 
Happiness will come tu^morrow. 

** Oft the storm, on sable wing, 
Howls along with nightly ravage; 
Yet, when morning splendour spring. 
Sinks to rest the tempest savage," 



m 



RURAL POETRY. 



Hope! the sailor feels thy power, 
Hov'ring o'er his humble pillow. 
At the dreary midnight hour 
Rocked by the roaring Billow; 

Green, to raptur'd fancy's eye. 
Rise his native mountains, gayly 
Smiles his lowly cottage nigh, 
Bosom'd in the woody valley; 

Now he thiviks he almost hears 
Friendship's tender salutation; 
Wife and children's joyful tears 
Sees in fond anticipation* 

Fickle Fate! thy stroke forbear- 
Grant his humble expectation; 
Force not Disappointment's tear; 
Crush him not with sad vexation, 

Mark the soldier, Valour's son, 
Brave the field of death and danger, 
No impending perils shun. 
Coward fear to him a stranger; 

Hope! thou prompt'st his nervous arm; 
Hope of vie' try, fame and glory; 
/riiese suppress each weak alarm; 
These inspire the bloody foray, 

Hope inspir'd, the merchant oft 
Trusts to wind and sea his riches. 
All tlie dupes of pleasure soft 
Unsubstantial Hope bewitches. 

Earthly Hopes are weak, alas! 
Pain to soothe, or care to banish; 



R^RAL POETRY. 33 

Christian Hope can these redress; 
When approached they often vanish. 

Christian Hope is Hope refin'd; 
More sublime and sure its joys; 
Objects of a nobler kind 
Every raptur'd thought employs. 

Sure his hope, the child of faith, 
Still with flesh and sense contending, 
Loves the narrow shining path. 
Leads to pleasures never ending. 

'Midst the stormy scenes of Time . 
Christian Hope elates the spirit. 
Viewing oft a fairer clime, 
Which the victor shall inherit. 

Hope in death the righteous have; 
Hope their fainting flesh supporting; 
Hope of victory o'er the giave; 
Hope of future bliss transporting. 

Blessed Hope! that dies away 
Only in the full possession; 
Where immortal fountains play. 
Lost in bliss beyond expression. 



To the Cuckoo. 

Sweet bird ! ye're welcome back agen* 
I like to hear your canty strain, 



34 RURAL POETRY. 

When wandrin' early on the plain, 
Resound Cuckoo; 

There's nane o' a' the feather'd train 
Can sing like you. 

At your approach cauld Winter flees, 
An' fragrant blossoms deck the trees, 
And saft the kindly wastlin breeze 

Soughs thro' the shaw; 
While Phoebus, warm, the kintra frees 

Frae frost an' snaw. 

Yet, Gowk, ye're unco seldom seenj 
Ye're naething but a simmer frien'; 
Aften through winter dark I grein 

For your return; 
Yet tho' I should greet out my een. 

In vain I mourn. 

What ails ye at auld Scotland's shore 
When bloomin' Spring and Simmer's o'er; 
When bauld the drivin' tempests roar 

O' sleet an' snaw, 
Frae wintry blasts an' cranreugh hoar 

Ye slink awa. 

Nor lets me hear your cheering note. 
At morn or e'ening, round my cot. 
Till wintry storms are a' forgot. 

An' Spring appear. 
An' daizies decking ilka spot 

Invite ye here. 

Whare flee ye till in sickan haste? 
D^ye explore the farthest east; 



RURAL POETRY, 35 

Oil gums and spices sweet to feast, 
And sic like cheer; 

And syne come back to tak a taste 
O' what grows here. 

Wing ye your annual way to JFrance? 
Tell thae daft chiels, if they advance 
And try owre Scotland's knowes to prance. 

In warlike state, 
Grim death, frae braid claymore or lance, 

Shall be their fate. 

Gay bird! your travels still pursue; 
There's mony Simmer friends by you; 
When siller sheds its fostering dew, 

An' plenty flows, 
Ilk little saul will scrape and bow. 
• Dissembling foes! 

If Fortune frown and mak me poor, 
Fu' soon they look baith cauld an' sour; 
To thole stern Poverty's snell showier 

I stand alane; 
Their friendship, like a simmer flower. 

Is quickly gane. 

Sic thankless friends are waur than thee, 
Wha never v/aits our Hairst to pree; 
But till they sup our last drap bree 

They will stand by; 
Syne, when w^e hae nae mair to gie. 

They quickly fly. 

The friend be mine that will stand fast 
Amid stern Fortune's bitter blast. 



36 RURAL POETRY. 

Adhering firmly to the last; 

Unlike to you, 
Wha, after Spring and Simmer 's past, 

Bids us adieu. 



The Cottager^s Reflections on visiting the 
Scenes of his Youth. 



*' Returned to view 
Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew— 
Rememb'rance wakes, with all her busy train,* 
Swells in my breast, and turns the past to gain." 

Goldsmith. 



Ah! rueful change — what scenes appear,— 
(Rude Harp, my feelings vent.) 

Where many a youthful happy year 
In peace and love 1 spen^t. 

Yet still yon aged beechen shade 

Adorns the lovely spot 
AVhere often, when a child, I play'd 

Around my father's cot. 

There, smiling elves, we'd oft convene, 
Hard by the streamlet's brink. 

And form the daizies on the green 
In many a flow'ry link. 

Our fathers, too, (peace to their manes!) 
Set by the cottage door, 



RURAL POETRt. 37 

Would list, well pleas'd, our artless strains. 
And dream their childhood o'er. 

Sweet harmless scenes of guiltless love. 

Sweet favorite resorts. 
Adieu! — yet oft regret ye movej 

Adieu! sweet infant sports. 

For, ah! this seems a foreign land; 

No cottage, rising sweet. 
Encircled green with ivy band. 

My lonely steps invite. 

Yon pebble-bottom'd crystal burn 

No more reflects the day; 
Close hid in reeds it seems to mourn, 

As slow it glides away. 

No cheerful sound accents the gale 

That sweeps along the glade. 
Except the lone OwPs plaintive wail. 

Embowered in yonder shade. 

Xo more the voice of blooming Spring 

Sliall rouse the cottage swains 
To hear the warbling lavrock sing, 

And cultivate the plains. 

No more shall flow'ry Simmer's heat 

Invite the children gay 
To wanton in yon streamlet sweet, 

Soft shaded from the ray. 

No more these fields, on Autumn morn, 
' With yellow plenty glov/; 
D 3 



3$ RURAL POETRY. 

Nor joyful reapers stook the corn, 
In many a goodly row. 

No more the Kirn, at harvest's close, 

Solace the toil-worn hind; 
(Sweet scenes! where mirth and plenty flow, 

With innocence combin'd.) 

No more, through Winter's piercing reign. 

Their blazing hearths invite 
The circle, chanting many a strain 

Of rudest numbers sweet. 

No more the pensive Redbreast's note 

Beguiles the snowy day; 
(Sweet little minstrel of the cot. 

Through Winter's rigid sway.) 

Oh! scenes which Time can ne'er eraze, 

No more ye meet my eye; 
The morn and evening song of praise 

No more ascends on high. 

Ah! no — Improvement's cruel hand, 

With unrelenting sway. 
Hath scattered wide the virtuous band. 

And swept the cot away. 

Some, on a hostile foreign shore, 

Undaunted meet the foe; 
Some brave the Ocean's stormy roar; 

And many sleep below. 

Some, in the crowded city pent, 
Ply hard their sickly trades. 



RURAL POETRY, g^ 

While fancy dreams tliat sweet content 
Pervades their native shades. 

The rest, alas! (yet happy they,) 

Have found an early grave; 
While o^er them bloom the gowans gay 

And soft the Yew-trees wave. 

Departed friends, a long adieu! 

No more on earth we meet. 
The storms of life are o'er with you; 

Your happiness complete. 

Low lye the homes that once were ours, 

And boding silence reigns; 
No footstep bends the dewy flowers, 

Along the lonely plains. 

No more, my harp ! — sweet scenes, adieu ! 

The retrospect gives pain; 
Yet oft shall fancy mourn o'er you.— 

Adieu! my native plain. 



Tq Friendship. 

Who is she that so rigidly urges her flight 
From the seats of mild concord and love? 
Sure some lovely cherub, in chariot of light> 
Descends from the regions above. 

Whose smile shoots abeam of delight through the 

soul, 
Softly gilding the dark sullen gloom of despair. 



, 40 RURAL POETRY* 

Like the gay-colour*d rainbow when loud than- 
ders roll, [pole, 

Or the moon-.beam when darkness envelopes^ the 
And ghosts ride the storm-troubPd aix\ 

'Tis Friendship. — Sweet Friendship, — bright off- 
Her Author, Supporter and End, [spring of God, 
The land of my fathers be it thy abodej 
Thy reign o'er her children extend. 

For often ye wont, in the times that are past, 
O'er the vales and wild mountains of Scotland to 
Cementing her heroes in unity fast, [roam; 

Where rock-shelter' d hamlets repel the rude blast, 
Stern Valour's unconquered home. 

And still thy mild spirit, mysteriously strong. 
Their care-troubl'd bosoms will shew, 
While the wild wintry billows of Time roll along, 
And the winds of Adversity blow. 

Fell Jealousy shuns the bright glance of thine eye; 
The grim hov'ring demons of Discord are fled; 
How swiftly the low lowering clouds of Envy, 
And thick fogs of Selfishness break from the sky. 
While Harmony smiles in their stead. 

Sweet soother of languor! how^ hapless their case 
Who ne'er knew the delights of thy smile! 
My heart springs enamour'd to meet thy embrace, 
And rest in thy bosom a while. 

Thy power never ending, unknown to decay, 
Shall ascend when the. changes of Time are no 
more, * 



RURAL POETRY. 41 



And preside o'er immortals in regions of day, 
The companion of Angels, who raptured stray 
On Eternity's unknown shore. 



Expostulation. 

Why *bout Italian scenery tell us;— > 
It canna match our native vallies; 
Nae wilds sae sweet, sae rudely grand, 
Are seen in that degenerate land. 
Or why in strains poetic fash us 
Wi'^hat auld fashion'd hill Parnassus; 
What though in deathless sang renowned, 
Wi^ ever-during verdure crowned. 
Say, can it mair sublimely shaw 
Than Benechoin deep clad wi' snaw; 
Or can its far-flim'd woods and rills, 
Match Drumachargan's sylvan hiUsj 
Or thine, romantic Ochtertyre! 
Eneugh to wake an angePs lyre; 
Whare Art and Nature lang hae striv'n 
To form a sublunary heaven. 
Ne^er shall I seek my limbs to lave 
In fam'd Castalia^s drumly wave. 
While Erne and Turrit murmur clearer. 
Streams thaf, to me at least, are dearer. 
A waught o* them will do mair guid 
Than Helicon^s poetic flood; 
And sweeter blooms Strathearn lasses 
Than a^ the wood-nymphs o^ Parnassus. 



i 



42 ' RURAL POETRY. 

O ye wha pour'd the tunefu^ fire 
Through Ossian's breast, and strung his lyre; 
Wha, smiling heard auld Douglas smg, 
And Beattie's Minstrel numbers ring, 
Oh ! ance again return a while, 
An* mak our norlan* mountains smile. 
And lo! the song-inspiring train 
Frae south^ren vales return agahi; 
Owre Katrine^s wave the harp they strung, 
And sweet immortal measuies rungj 
The bold romantic charmin' spot 
Wauken*d the magic lyre o* Scott, 
Wha sung each wild and svlvan feature, 
And formed a looking-glass to Nature. 
Benvorlich*s top, and Benvenue, 
Arrested then the Muse^s view. 
Yet" soon may kindred melting strains 
Immortalize Strathearn plains: 
Her wildwoods green — her hills and floods-— 
And blossomed plains, a haunt for gods, — 
Nor mair for foreign ferlies rove. 
But find the Muse in ilka grove. 



To Health. 

Blooming Health! of thee possessed, 
I can be supremely blessed, 
Where Arabian vallies smile. 
Or in Britain's happy isle; 
On the land or roaring sea; 
Any where is sweet with thee. 



nURAL POETRY. 43 

Glad with thee Pd deserts roam 
•Neath the burning torrid zone. 
Or where Borean tempests roar 
On a Scandinavian shore; 
If thy presence thou bestow, 
Welcome worlds of frost and snow. 
Though dame Fortune angry lour. 
Having thee I dare be poor; 
Never shall I covet w^ealth 
*Reft of thee, O blooming Health! 
Blest with thee, O maid divine! 
Poor or rich, in any clime. 
In a cottage I could dwell, 
Or a gloomy dungeon cell; 
Better there than unconiinM, 
Leaving thee, sweet Health! behind. 
What w^ould pale Disease and Pain 
Give thy favor to regain ! 
Rich Peru or India's w^ealth 
Cannot buy thy smile, O Health! 
Having thee, w^e have a treasure; 
Losing thee, farew^ell to pleasure. 
Mountain shepherd on the glade 
Often sees thee, buxom maid! 
Sees thee trip the Scottish mountains. 
Sip her cooling crystal fountains; 
Or, with liilies decked gayly, 
Sporting in the dewy valley; 
Sweeping through the hazel grove 
Prompting music, — prompting love* 
O'er her moors and fells ye roan\: 
Still ye love a Scottish home. 






44 RURAL POETRY. 



%v%«^^%%^v^ 



Epistle to a Student^ — 1816. 

*TwAS just yestreen, nae further gane, 
On Erne banks I mus*d alane; 
When lo! the Genius o' the stream 

Burst on my viewj— • 
What then I felt I canna name. 

At sight sae new. 

Though growin' dark I could discern 

His stalwart form and visage stern, 

(So Wallace look'd, auld Scotland's bairn, 

In times of old,) 
The Scottish Harp hung owre his arm. 

Of antique mould. 

A dirk he w^ore, and philibeg. 
The garter bound his manly leg; 
(A dress gies Britain's fa-es a fleg;) 
And in his hand 
^ He wav'd (though rusty, keen and gleg) 
An awfu' brand. 

With look erect he seem'd to spy 

The scenes o' dark futurity. 

His sword he sheathM, and pensively 

The Harp he strung; 
The tear seem'd trembling in his eye 

While thus he sung: — 

" Ah! why should Reflection awaken my strain! 
Unheeded I murmur— unheeded repine; — 



RURAL POETRY. 45 

For the youths of Strathearn have fled from the 

phiin; 
And Solitude, Silence and Winter are mine, [tide 
Ere the dark mountain torrent had swollen my 
They hie them a\vay to the bleak Fifan shore; 
For Edina's proud towers, or the banks of the 

Clyde, [before. 

They relinquish the pleasures that charm'd them 

*' Yet say, can they boast an asylum from care? 
Do the groves more inviting these vallies adorn? 
Ah! no — but the gardens of Science are there. 
Expanding their blossoms that smile at the storm» 
^Tis these that entice my young fav'rites away. 
And eclipse the more simple delights of the plain j 
Unmindful how oft in the warm sunny day, 
In my stream deeply plunging they cooPd every 
vein. 

*' Far distant the day, yet I faintly discern 
A scene that shall yet be unfolded by Time, 
When the red beam of evening that trembles on 

Erne 
Shall gild her fair College with splendor sublime. 
A fountain of knowledge, — there Learning shall 

dwell. 
And the streams of Improvement abundantly flow; 
At the c^ll of Fame's trumpet shall speed to the 

vale 
The youth of the Danube, the Seine and the Po* 

" The Botanist then shall delighted explore 
Each herb and -wild flow'ret that blooms on our 
plains; 

E 



46 RURAL POETRY. 

Here keen-eyM Astronomy upward shall soar. 
And Philosophy sagely investigate man. 
Where my shade loving Druids oft strung the 
bold lyre, [foe. 

And my sons of stern freedom overthrew the proud 
There the poet shall feel the celestial fire, 
And the champion of freedom, the patriot, glow. 

" Till the dull torpid reign of stern Winter roll 

o'er. 
To the coral pav'd caverns of Neptune Til fly. 
Where the light-footed Genii old Ocean explore. 
And toss the green billows aloft to the sky. 
Then sleep, airy harp! nor awaken thy strain 
Till bright blooming Flora step forth in her prime; 
When my favorite youths shall return to the plain 
Then wake my rude numbers to rapture sublime.'* 

He said, and vanished from my sight 
Like phantom on the wing of night; 
The gale breath'd keener from the hill; 
And all was clear, and cold, and stilU 



%^ V%%% V^ ^^ W^'V 



To Content. 



Who art thou with brow serene, 
And the cheerful placid mien; 
And the mildly piercing eye, 
Viewing dark futurity; 
Calmly meeting each event; 
Yes — I know thee, sweet Content! 



RURAL POETRY. 4? 

Why, O gentle power! so shy? 
Why elude the searching eye? 
Tell me where thou lov'st to dwell; 
Lead me to thy sylvan cell. 

Spring of every bhss below! 

Happiness thy smiles bestow. 

Bosom'd deep in verdant bowers, 
See ascend yon haughty towers; 
There, in chambers of the great, 
Dost thou loll in silken state? 
Or their sumptuous feasts admire; 
Splendid halls and gay attire; 
Music's softest, sweetest strains; 
Gaudy plumes and sweeping trains; 
'Midst the scene of mirth and wine 
Does Content the garland twine; 
Sure no sorrows here molest, 
This, Content! must be thy rest. 
Ah! Ambition, Luxury there ^ 
Banish thee, celestial fair! 

Spring of every bliss below! 

Happiness thy smiles bestow. 

Mark yon ancient castle halls; 

Hoary turrets, — mouldering walls; 

No enlivening sprightly strain 

Cheers that haggard miser's den; 

Never turns his iron door 

To the stranger or the poor; 

Dost thou there, Content, take pleasure ^ 

Summing up his yellow treasui^e? 

Or exult when thousands more 

Swell his useless shining store? 



48 RURAL POETRY. 

K'o — you hate his savage cell; 
There you never, never dwell. 

Spring of every bliss below! 

Happiness thy smiles bestow. 

Fron^ that laborer's humble roof 
State and Avarice stand aloof, 
With the simple inmates dwell 
Piety with azure veil. 
Brownest bread, and blooming health. 
All their fare, and all their wealth. 
Scarce even diligence succeeds 
To supply their daily needs; 
Dost thou ever soothe their toil? 
Yes — ye sometimes deign a smilej 
Yet, alas! pale Discontent 
Oft thy soothing smiles prevent; 
Thus the Sun's effulgent ray 
Sometimes gilds a cloudy day, 
Soon the envious shades unite, 
And obscure his cheering light. 

Spring of every bliss below! 

Happiness thy smiles bestow^ * 

See that cottage on the plain, 

There resides the rural swain; 

O'er it Peace her wing extends. 

Plenty sw^eet her step attends; 

Luxury is there unknown, 

Want is never heard to moan; 

There the houseless wand'rer^ poor. 

Ever finds an open door; 

There, w^ith Love and Temperance, dwell 

Chastity with snowy veil, 



EURAL POETRt. 49 

Piety, with upward eye, 
Blooming Health, and Charity; 
O'er the artless cottage train 
All the milder virtues reign; 
Dost thou here, Content! reside? 
Yes — retired from wealthy pride. 
Meagre want, and avarice* cell, 
There with competence you dwell. 

There, Content! thy smiles bestow. 

Every bliss enjoy'd belcJw. 



To Gold. 



Gold! thee I sing, all-powerful Gold! 
Thou God, rever'd by young and old; 
Thou toy that keep'st weak man in play 
From childhood to his closing day. 
Thou whet'st grim War's destructive brand; 
And Peace returns at thy command. 
What makes the Merchant brave the deep? 
What makes poor Disappointment weep? 
What lifts one man above another, 
And makes a brother cheat a brother? 
What props a while a sinking throne? 
What makes poor Misery pine alone? 
Why, Grandeur! why that haughty -eye? 
What prompts pale Poverty's sad sigh? 
What opens Charity's fair hand, 
And scatters blessings o'er a land? 
What hardens human hearts to steel? 




^0 



RURAL POETRY. 



What makes Intemperance to reel? 
What drives the robber to his fate. 
And prompts to love, and kindles hate? 
What shakes the gamester with alarm^ 
And braces Labour's nervous arm? 
What makes the ruthless sailor bold. 
And lawyer knavish? what but Gold. 
Gold! after thee what millions press, 
Mistaking thee for happiness. 
Ye cause much good, and every ill. 
Yet art a useful evil still. 
The love of thee 's the root of evil;. 
Transforms a miser to a devil. 



•*% %%^^ V^^* V% %i 



Address to the Bee. 

Sweet little artful harmless Bee ! 

Accept sic praise as I can gie. 

What though your stature ^s unco wee. 

Yet bauld and crousej 
Nae slothfu' dirty thing 1 see 

About your house. 

In vain we leuk thro' halls o* state 
For stores sae sweet, or rooms sae neatj 
Sic diligence baith air and late, 

Wi' order due. 
And every thing sae snod and feat 

Ne^er meets the view. 

Refreshed and trimmed, your little buik 
On sunny mornin' Vv^anders out, 



V 



nURAL POlliTRY. 51 

Ilk flower wi^ matchless skill ye suck, 

And dewy bell. 
Yet disna spill their bonny look^ 

Or pleasant smell. 

When, far frae noise o* busy town, 
I range the muir or verdant howm, 
Frae flower to flower, wi' gentle boom^ 

I see 3^ou flit. 
Or on the purple heather bloom 

Ye gayly sit. 

Hame sweetly laden to your cell 
Ye swiftly flee owre muir and fell, 
And there lay up, 'gainst winter snell. 

Your balmy store. 
In hopes fu' canny there to dwell 

When tempests roar. 

Alasl in vain the time ye spend; 
Owre quickly comes your dolefu* end. 
Soon cursed brumstane fumes ascend 

And choak your breath^^ 
While dire convulsive throes attend 
"^our cruel death. 

*Mang plans o* death sure this is ane 
Mair savage than was ever taen. 
Oh Justice 1 Pity! whither gaen 

Frae human hearts. 
And left them thus mair hard than stane. 

To try sic arts. 

Oh! needy man, ne'er covet more 
Than half their sweet delicious store. 



52 RURAL POETRY. 

Sae may they see cauld Winter o'er 
An' Spring appear, 

Then will they busy as before, 

Provide ye cheer. 

You, too, ye larger spotted chield 
Wlia has nae scape your buik to shield. 
Content, taks up wi^ humble bield; 

In some feal dyke. 
Or foggy hillock in the field, 

Ye mak your byke. 

Wi' sweets, frae mony wild flowers stole. 
Ye store the dark yet cozy hole. 
Ne'er dreadin* ruthless wooden pole 

Will e'er come near, 
Or that the -thievish mining mole 

Your gear will steer. 

Yet oft, alas I ye're sair mistaken; 

Your hole is marked — ^your peace is ganej 

Soon little rascals, mony ane, 

Wi' savage pleasure. 
Regardless o* your buzzing mane, 

Howk out your treasure. 

Stop, little plunderers, and attend; 
How will thae little creatures fend 
When cauld November rains descend. 
Their treasure lost; 
Pale Want maun bring them to their end. 
And nippin* frost. 

Yet that same bonny spotted Bee 
Has right as guid to live as thee; 



RURAL rOJeXRY* 58 

Cease then, and let him wander free, 
Whare^er he likesj 

And never think it harmless glee 
To herry bykes. 

Sweet Artists! let me learn frae you 
Industrious virtue to pursue; 
And still wi' Prudence keep in view 
Lifers wint'ry days; 
While Temperance o' rosy hue 
Her sceptre sways^ 

Ye malcontents may here discern 
The proper method to govern; 
Nae lawless mob, nor despot arm. 

Dare here controul; 
Guid laws, dispensed vA^ Justice stern. 

Overrules the whole. 

^ic laws are thine, my native isle! 
That naething curb but actions vile; 
^Vhile virtuous Freedom's bauldest smiie 

Is ever seen; 
And peace and pleasure sport the while 

Owre every green. 



Address to the Evening Stan 

Hail, sparkling messenger of light! 
Arrived to cheer the falling shades, 
While the dew^-bent spray reflects thy ray 
Along the dusky glades* 



d'h RURAL rOETllY. 

Fair twinkling friend of early love ! 
Lighting the nymph to the twilight bower, 
Where the love-lorn youth, with heart of truth, 
Awaits the raptured hour. 

Oft let me climb, while shines thy beam, 
The Knock with sylvan honors crowned. 
When the deep ton*d hum of Erne is dumb, 
And Nature listens rovmd. 

There, wandering pensive let me view 
The last faint streak of parting light; 
And mark, on the glade, the last dun shade 
That wraps the veil in night. 

There with thy beam let truth descend, 
And teach while pleasures charm the mind; 
Though they promise high, how soon they fly ! 
And leave remorse behind. 

Oh ! now poor Misery feels her waes, 
While memory bleeds the livelong night, [eye. 
With the deep deep sigh, and the tear-sv/oPn 
That shuns the cheerful light. 

And see the fearless madman roam. 
All unconscious of thy lovely beam, 
While the demons foul unhinge his soul. 

And darken his horrid dream. 

And now the low-born slaves of Vice, 
Unblushing, spurn'd thy modest ray, 
With the falling shade to the tavern sped, 
While Ruin led the way. 

Now let me tread the twilight glade 



nURAL POETRY. 5:} 

Where the cheerful fairy tribes are seen, 
I may view perchance thek mystic dance, 
All dight in comely green.. 

Or view, from Turlom's tow'ring top, 
The Streamers' wild fantastic dance, 
While the Comets blaze, and the meteor plays 
Along the blue expanse. 

Or walk yon church-yard^s lonely round, 
When the night has reached her sable noon. 
And the pale ghosts roam from the world un- 
Athw^art the sullen gloom, [known. 

Adieu! adieu! propitious Star! 
For the midnight hag begins her spell; [tomb, 
And the spectres, come from the murd'rer's 
Prepare the rites of hell. 



To a Child. 

Little busy blooming child! 
Fair as primrose ^midst the wild, 
Rounding Pleasure's fairy ring 
Light as Summer insects wing, 
Cheerful as the blushing dawn, 
Playful as the mountain lamb. 
Mild as softest Vernal air. 
Pleased with toys, unknown to care, 
Sorrow ne'er disturbs thy rest, 
Content you smile, with little bless'd, 
Happy age of fancied bliss! 



56 RURAL POETRY. 

Sweet illusive happiness ! 
Still indulge thy careless play; 
Soon thy pleasures pass away. 
^Sorrow^s shafts, (unwary blossom!) 
Soon, too soon shall wound thy bosomj 
And the thousand ills of life 
Kindle up unceasing strife. 
^ Soon shall Passion's tyrant sway 
Try to lead thy youth astray; 
And the poisoned springs within 
Struggle to break .forth in sin. 
Still for heedless youth to tread 
Vice her thousand snares hath spread, 
Hiding well her gorgon train, 
Sorrow, shame, remorse and pain; 
Demons foul, awaiting still 
Where Corruption rules the will; 
Where, the force of Reason crushed, 
And the voice of conscience hush'd, 
Guilt pursues her onward path, 
Leading to eternal death. 
When arrived at years mature, 
Other evils spread their lure; 
If in Plenty's lap ye roll. 
There Ambition fires the soul; 
Pride is there, with scornful eye; 
Pleasure's luscious bowser is nigh. 
Ileason blinding — Sense alluring — 
Vice^s votaries fast securing. 
If on Life's rude common thrown, 
Where Misfortune rears her throne. 
Frowning o'er the sterile waste. 
Poverty thy constant guest. 



RURAL POETRY, 5^ 

Want and Disappointment there 

Cloud the gloomy brow of care; 

While thy pleasures, short and few, 

Pass away like early dew. 

Nor can hoary age display 

Symptoms of a better day: 

There wrinkled Melancholy 

Points to youth mispent in folly, 

Stooping down the vale of years, " 

Life in retrospect appears 

What it is, — a painful dream j-— 

Bliss, a momentary gleam. 

While, advancing, meets the eye 

Vast unknown Eternity. 

Piety alone is wise; 
Seeks her blessings in the skies; 
Kindly calls and leads the way 
To the climes of endless day. 
Be it thine to follow still 
Up fair Virtue's rugged hill; 
Ne'er let Sloth your ardour stop 
Bliss immortal 's at the top. 



Epistle to a Poetical Friend. 

To answer your kind letter weel. 
Oh for the numbers o' MacNiel! 
And Robin's fire, wha weel could speel 

The steeps o' fame; 
Right weel ye, droll auldtarren chiel. 

Deserve sic strain. 
F 



58 RURAL POETRY. 

Vain wish, alas! nae fav'ring muse ^ 
Sheds on my head her gentle dewsj 
Sae ye maim kindly, Sir, excuse 

My strain, tho' dryj^ 
1 canna decently refuse 

A frank reply. 

How dare ye Sir, when sour'd wi' spleen, 
Slash down your sangs wi' whittle keen; 
The tears drap frae the Muses' een. 

An' stain their face; 
Ye'll tempt them to desert ye clean. 

Oh! waefu* case. 

Nae mair o' this; — free iflow your sang 
The woods and bloomin' w^ilds amang; 
And sell your whittle to the gang 

O' rhymin' quacks, 
Wha for their warks, baith dull and lang, 

DeseiTe their vvhauks. ^ 

Peace to sic lads! but as for thee. 
The best advice that I can gie, 
Is just to tune, wi' canty glee, 

Your harp to joy; 
And if ye're pleas'd wi' friend like me, 

It's done, my boy* 

Your dwellin' may wi' Virgil's vie; 
In every grove the Muse is nigh; 
Whare the wild streams o* Machany 

Fa' owre the linn. 
And chaf jn the ravish'd ear and eye 

Wi' thund'rin' cM^. 



UUIIAL POETRY- 59 

Sweet stream! 'twas on thy rural banks 
That lirst I sey'd my youthful shanks, 
And loupit brisk owre knowes and stanks;^ 

Yard, dyke or stile; 
Yet aften got but little thanks 

For a' my toil. 

Aft too, I mind, till e'enin' bell 
I've wander'd affand play'd mysell 
In that wee wood whare Murray fell 

By ruthless hands, 
Wliare yet at night, O strange to tell I 

His spectre stands. 

So said my nurse, a beldam auld; 
Wha aften queerest stories tauld; 
When bleak December storms blew bauld, 

The livelang night. 
She aften gard my blood run cauld 

Wi* perfect fright} 

'Bout Worricow wi^ een a' glancing 
And fairies clad in green advancing 
And witches auld on broomsticks prancin* 

To deeds unlawful 
Wi^ deils and glowrrn' bogles dancin* 

In concert awfu'! 

Or brownie, spunkie, kelpie, satyr. 

And a* sic visionary matter. 

That weel the youthfu' mind can fetter 

In chains o' steel. 
Though Past and Reason tells me better 

I mind them week 



60 RURAL POETRV. 

Thae stones wild stack to me stilij 
At last I drew the rhyuiing qaill 
And try'd to climb the tunefu^hili 

Wi' a* my pith; 
But Oh my rude attempts are ill, 

Cauld, formal, stiff. 

Come rouse thee, friend, and let thy strains 
Flow freely *mang the simple swainsj 
Gome sing Strathearn^s lovely plains, 

^* Unpeer'd by ony;^* 
Her woods and waters, hills and glensj 

And lasses bonny. 

When Simmer morn, wi* dewy feet, 
Comes blushin* up the eastern steep, 
Whare will ye see a scene mair sweet, 

Mild, calm and still. 
Or mair sublime, whan snaw and sleet 

Blaw frae the hill. 

How sweet the bloomin^ buds o* Spring! 
How soft the Simmer warblers sing! 
How blythe, in hairst, tiie reapers ring! 

Stript to the shift; 
Sublimely grand pale Wintei^'s wing. 

And blindin^ drift. , 

Adieu! and may Misfortune snell 

Far frae your habitation dwell; 

Lang may your sangs ring thro' the vale, 

And hills, and woods; 
And, lastly, may ye *scape frae hell, 

Aboon the duds. 



RURAL tOETRY. Cl 



x^^*.^*^ 



Second Letter to a Poetical Friend. 

OCTOBER, 1815. 

Oh Bard of the Forest, thy musical strain 
Comes soft o*er my soul like the sun after rainj 
Thy letters poetic are sweeter to me 
Than gold to the miser, or flowers to the bee. 
To paint lovely nature, to thee Sir is given, 
With pencil soft dipt in the colours of heaven. 
Inspire me, fair Nature! all powerful to charm. 
Give feeling and taste all thy sv/eets to discern. 
Though Summer with all her gay trappings be 

flown, 
And the yearns fading glories the forests embrown; 
Though Autumn on tiptoe is sighing farewell. 
Bequeathing her stores to the sons of the vale. 
And Nature to some uninviting appear, 
A Poet ne'er trembles when Winter is neai-; 
'J-Iis harp still resounds thro* the winter clad vale, 
Tho' Nature shrink back from the keen moun- 
tain gale; 
The Muse can the storm of its terrors disarm, 
And find e*en in Winter still something to charm, 
Tho' long the keen night, how enchanting the 

view! 
How deep, how extensive the star-strewn blue ! 
How brightly beams forth the effulgence of morn, 
Y\^hen snow robes the mountain, and hoar-frost 

the thorn; 

Full merrily passes the short wint'ry day, 
The season of rural amusement and plaV. 

F 3 ^ ^ 



62 RURAL POETRY, 

And Nature's late beauties we scarcely can moura 
Ere Springes bloomy verdure begins to return. 
The ermine clad snow-drop peeps modestly forth, 
And April invites the Cuckoo to the north; 
Then Winter, reluctant, stalks slowly away, 
And yields to the dew-sprinkled blossoms of May* 
The deep shady grove shall its verdure resume^ 
The sweet scented garden its varied perfume; 
The lambs on the mountains shall frolic and playj 
And Summer her countless attractions display; 
The youths and the virgins shall marshal the 
dance, 

Enlivening the haunt of the Muse, D ce. 

Excuse me, dear 11 , 1 must bid you adieu, 

I forget to have done when writing to you; 
I hope, at the farthest, in C — ff you'll be seen 
To spend the witch-evening of fam'd Halloxveen; 
Till then be the fair and the muse ever kind; 
Adieu! and Heaven bless you in body and mind. 



^^ v% v%^% v%%% v^ 



Peace anticipated. — 1 8 1^. 

Rudest Minstrel Harp, awaken; 

Gentle zephyrs round thee play; 
Sleep no longer thus forsaken; 

Come, O Muses! come away; 
Peace, returning. 
Claims the Minstrel^s votive lay. 

Mark her yonder, slow advancing; 
Jlark! before her dies the stormy 



RURAL POETRY. 63 

See the gentle virtues dancing 
Round her fair angelic form; 
Sweetest odours 
On the passing breeze are borne.. 

With tremendous desolations, 

Widows' sighs and orphans' tears, 

War long shook pale Europe's nationsj 
Welcome Peace at length appears^ 

Mild her aspect; 

Quickly fly their gloomy fears. 

Thus before the glow of Morning 

Fly the sable shades of Night, 
While, in ruddy splendor burning, 

Phoebus rises, — source of light! 
And the Sky-lark 
Heavenward bends his tuneful flight*. 

Broke the rod of fell Ambition y 

Past his cruel iron reign; 
Farewell, gloomy dark Suspicion! 

Peace, with Plenty in her train,. 
Sweetest couple! 
Trips along the flowery plain* 

Gentle Peace! pervade the world; 

Plenty soothe the laborers toil; 
Glad, with snowy sails unfurPd^ 

Commerce hails you with a smile. 
Ever triumph 
In Britannia's happy isle. 

Ancient bards, in sacred visioHj 
Saw a glorious future day^ 






64 • nURAL POETRY. 

When pale Envy, and division, 

From bright truth should flee away; 
And, enraptured, 
Peace assume unrivaFd sway; 

Saw the battle spear and sabre 
Form the pruning hook and share. 

And the toilworn hand of labour 
Nature's ruined wastes repair; 

And each valley 

Wave with yellow harvests fair. ' 

Man to man, in warm affection, 
Sweetly knit in friendship's tie; 

Passion, under due subjection, 
Saw fell Pride and Envy die; 

And, to bless them. 

Love descending from the sky. 

Frowning War, array 'd in terror. 
Nature ^s works no more deface; 

Fled the gloomy night of error; 
Ignorance resigns her place; 

And bright Knowledge 

Shines in every human face. 

Swift the circling hours are running; 

Years and ages fly away; 
Happy aera! speed thy coming; 

Nature mourns thy long delay. 
Gentle Goddess! 
Come and bless us with thy sway. 

Thus the Muse, in rudest numbers^ 
Soft indulg'd her pleasing theme; 



RURAL POETRY, 65 

Hush'd red War, and all his thunders, 

Peace! enraptured witk thy name 5 
Quite forgetting 
That the whole is yet a dream. 



%-%%^'V^^^^^^^V^ 



Ode written at the close of ISl 5^ 

Yes, Eighteen hundred and fifteen! 
A year eventful thou hast been; 

What varied scenes appear! 
Thou saw'st grim War's tremendous brand 
Hurl Princes from then* high command^ 
Wide scattering woes o'er every land, 

That chilPd our hearts with fear. 

Thou saw^st the scourge of human kind 
Bereft of power, exiPd, confined 

Far in yon eastern isle. 
Fam'd Waterloo sustained the shock. 
When angry Heaven's avenging stroke 
His rod of mad ambition broke. 

And gave him for a spoil. 

Thou saw'st our British heroes bleed. 
Yet soon a brighter scene succeed. 

And Freedom raise her voicej 
Thou saw'st with joy the cherub Peace 
Descending in celestial grace. 
While Discord fled before her face, 

And War's tumultuous noise- 

From eastern India's farthest climes 



66 RURAL POETRY* 

To where the setting sun reclines, 

Far o'er the western wavej 
To troubrd Earth's remotest end 
Thou saw^st her gentle reign extend, 
While Love and Joy her steps attend, 
And Mercy, prone to sr.ve. 

Threatening thy seasons to deform, 
Thou saw*st grim Winter's lingering storm 

Protract the laborer's toil; 
Yet potent suns and fostering rains 
Soon fertilized Britannia's plains, 
Strew'd blessings on her hnppy swains, 

And made glad Plenty smile* 

Long, long, O Peace! protract thy reignj 
Ye sons of men awake the strain, 

And hymn the God of Peace, 
Sweet prelude of the happy time 
When all shall own her reign benign, 
And sing secure beneath the vine; 

And War for ever cease. 

Even now the veil aside is drawn, 
Andlo! the feeble lingering dawn 

Begins to streak the gloom; 
The Sacred word from Britain given 
Points erring Man the way to Heaven, 
Unfolds how Sin may be forgiven 

And Bliss beyond the tomb. 

Even now, their idols cast away 
To moles and bats, — behold they pray 
To Jesus, Lord of all; 
While sacred knowledge rolls along 



RURAL POETUY. Gj 

Her rapid current clear and strong, 
And grateful nations swell the song 

Around this earthly ball. 

O speed thy coming, glorious day! 
When every shade shall fly away, 

And every doubt remove j 
When all, enlightened by the Word, 
Shall serve the Universal Lord, 
And, Nature ^s harmony restored, 

Display unmingPd love. 

O Thou, the God whom Angels fear! 
Whose goodness crowns the closing year. 
Do thou thy word fulfil. 
Proclaim with energy divine 
Thy light is come — arise and shine,— 
The glory of the Lord sublime 

Shall stream o*er every hill. 



1 



Verses at the coynmencement o/*1816. 

AcJAiN pale January leads forth 

His storms across the plain; 
Wikl wasting from the frozen north 

They sweep the land and main. 

O now commiserate their fate 
Who plough the angry wave, 

Where Ruin rides in dreadful state. 
And points a wat'ry grave* 



68 RURAL POETRY. 

No sweets domestic charm their day 

From social bliss exilM; 
No silv'ry moon nor polar ray 

Beams o'er the liquid wild. 

And theirs who own the cheerless hut 

Of poverty and pain; 
Ye sons of wealth, Oh let them not 

Implore your help in vain. 

And his — the Madman — self-exilM— 

Distraction shakes his form, 
While o'er the moor he wanders wild, 

And braves the midnight storni. 

Children of Pain ! accept the tear 

From sympathy that flows; 
For Oh the heart is hard that ne'er 

Hath wept o'er human woes. — 

While Winter wild, with fleet career. 

Rides on the roaring blast, 
Come let mo hail the newborn year 

A^d ponder well the past. 

Though sw^ft its course and quickly hence, 
Yet trials have mark'd the way; 

And thousands saw the year commence 
Who now embrace the clay. 

The w^idow^ weeps, and parents mourn 
Their children from them torn; 

Misfortune fears the year's return, 
With want, disease and scorn. 



nURAL POETRY. C^ 

Yet Mercy's soft alluring form 

Hath countless blessings shed; 
Hath often calm'd the lowering storm. 

And sooth'd the dying bed. ^ 

Young Health displays her roseate bloomj ^ 

Fair Plenty spreads her cheer; | 

Peace shines through War's tremendous gloom, 
And hails the rising year. 

To Him, the Universal Sire, 

Let grateful praise ascend; 
Who tunes to joy the mourner ^s lyre; 

Whose goodness knows no end. 

While swift the circling seasons move, 

Reflection mourns the past; 
Let me the coming year improve 

As if it were my last. 

It may be so,— -for what is Man?^ 

The creature of a day; 
His years at most are but a span, 

A shade that flies aw^ay. 

Religion! guide my steps through life^ 

And waft me safely o'er 
To that fair land, unknown to strife. 

Where years revolve no more. 

Where Joy the raptured anthem swells 

O'er all the blooming plains; 
Where Blis§ supreme forever dwells, ' f 

And Love immortal reigns* ' 



\ 



^0 RURAL POETRY. 



Address to a Unitarian Preacher. 



'* Denjung the Lord that bought them." 

BiBXE. 



PuiR cuif! pretendin* light to scatter; 
Truth's lovely face wi' dirt ye spatter; 
For me I trow I shanna flatter 

Sic impudence; 
A Frc^ might croak, or Pyet chatter, 

Mair sober sense. 

Scripture wi' you a nose o' wax is, 
Your art infernal twists and raxes, 
Syne whirls round error's blackened carcass 

To serve a turn; 
Wi' heart as rotten as Highland Braxies, 

By mountain burn. 

We learn by this Newlight ye've got, 
That Man by Nature's no corrupt, 
But a guid fiddle, if screw'd up 

By skilful hands. 
That sounds fu' sweetly ilka note 

O' God's commands. < 

To blacken mair ilk daemon feature 
Ye threap Messiah's just a creature. 
And no a God in human iiature 
To save the lost; 



RURAL POETRY. 71 

But Doomsday scenes will teach ye better. 
An to your cost. 

And, lest we should uneasy feel. 
Ye tell us plainly there^s nae Deil, 
.Nor endless fire whare sinners squeel 

In desperation ; — 
If so, thanks t'}'^, dainty chiel, 

For th* information* 

But maybe I mistook mysell. 
And ye just only meant ta tell 
Ye was incarnate Nick yersell, 

Wandrin' about; — 
And troth that ye come straught frae hell 

I dinna doubt. 

But sure your sooty friends of late 
Hae changed their ancient ruks o' state, 
For this is a newfangPd gate 

To hide our ruin ; 
And flat deny the gloomy fate 

For sinners brewin'. 

I dread when Death shall ca' ye hence 
Ye*il find the Devfl nae pretencej 
Nor a' your impudence a fence 

Against his flail; 
Ye'll find yersell, for a^ your sense. 

The scorn o' hell. 

What brought ye here ava, ye cauf? 
For you we coudna be ill aff^, 
[ Unless, indeed, we chus'd to laugh 

At sickan nonsensej— 






72 HURAL POETRY. 



I 



For nane can gobble up your draff 

To ease their conscience. 

Hame owre, ye headstrang hairbrain'd cowt! 
Or say, has England spew'd ye out, — 
That here ye come to rave and rbwt 

Sic worthless folly — 
Harsh as the drone o' burlin' nowt, 

Or barkin' colly. 



To Independence. 

Independence! darling theme; 
Art thou ought beside a dream? 
Art thou but an empty name? 
Or a great reality? 

Deign, Oh Lofty P^P^r! to say 
Where the men that boasts thy sway; 
Where, retired, thou lov'st to stray ; 

Where thou reign'st triumphantly. 

Boasted Idol of the great I 

Dost thou still submissive w^ait ^ 

At the lordly palace gate, 

Gracing superfluity? 

No, — if vice enslave the mind, 
Luxury the judgment blind. 
Theirs, of all the human kind. 
Is the basest slaverv. 



/ 



RURAL POETRY. YS 

Even the splendid regal crown 
(Mor^ dependent than the clown), 
On a Nation's smile or frown 

Hangs in sad uncertainty, 

^ Independent He, alone, 
IWho Creation calls his own; 
[who in Heaven has his throne; 
Father of Eternity; 

let in him the Saint can claim 
independence, Power serene f 
Blessings great, of every name. 

Crowed his large inventory. 

Present things, and things to come, 
Bliss sublime beyond the sun, 
V/hile eternal ages run. 

Treasures of immensity* 

He depends on earthly things 
Less, by far, than Lords or Kings; 
While his faitlv exulting wings 
Scenes of dim futurity. 

He can view, without dismay, 
Hoary Time itself decay; 
Earth and Heaven fly away 

In a moment suddenly. 

He can hear the sinner^s fate 
ThunderM from the Judgment-seat, 
And behold the Judge's state, 
I With composed solemnity. 

Glad his raptured thoughts arise; 

G 3 



74 nURAL POETRY. 

Near he views the glorious prize. 
Gift of Him who built the skies, 
To his chosen family* 

Landed on Emmanuel's shore, 
Scenes of sin and sorrow o*er, 
They enjoy for evermore 

Most supreme felicity. 

There the Holy One they see, 
Who, to set his people free, 
Bled upon the cursed tree; 

Died in bitter agony. 

In his radiant face divine 
Matchless love and beauty shine;. 
Lost the shifting scenes of Time 
In eternal extacy. 



To Peace.— 1815. 

Peace, sweet stranger! thee we hail; 
Evermore in Europe dwell; 
Thou, like heaven's showery bow. 
Speaks goodwill to men below. 
Gladness smiles in every land, 
ScatterM from thy angel hand; 
Parents now no more shall mourn 
Children never to return; 
Nor the widow ^s bosom heave 
O^er her slaughter^ husband^s grave; 
Nor her playful children sweet. 



RURAL POETRY. 75 

At their father's memory weep. 
Clouds of sorrow break away, 
Gladness ushers in the day, 
Joy, brightening every face, 
Speaks thy glad return, sweet Peace! 
Mad Ambition's blood-stain'd car. 
And the prowding wolves of War, 
At whose mandate thousands bled. 
All are at thy presence fledj 
Like a vapour chased aw^ay 
By the radiant King of Day. 
Harmless now the trumpet's strainj 
Plenty follows in thy train; 
Dormant Art, with gladden'd eyes, 
Sees fair palaces arise; 
Joys on every hand to trace 
Bright Improvement s finished grace. 
These, sweet Peace! by thee are given. 
Blessings from thy native heaven. 
Meek-ey'd stranger 1 ever reign; 
Stretch thy sceptre o'er the main. 
Men of every name and nation 
O'er the fields of wide creation, 
Range the dance and sw^ell the song 
As thy chariot rolls along; 
Angels laud you as ye go. 
And all Eden blooms below; 
While Ambition's burning fever, 
And grim War, subside for ever. 
Yet wherever thy chariot rolls. 
Near the line, or near the polels. 
Near the gardens of the Sun, 
Where the hallowed Ganges run. 



76 RURAL POETRY, 

Or, remote from vulgar eyes, 
Btightens Lapland^s dreary skies, 
Still in Britain fix thy seat, 
Stedfast as the throne of Fate. 
With thy soul-enlivening smiles. 
Bless our sea-encircled isles. 



Parody on Grays Elegy. 

The bell now tolls the solemn hour of ten, 
The Sabbath smiles, (away, ye clouds of care !) 
The Beadle slowly wends across the plain, 
With order due, to ope the house of prayer. 

Now streamlets glitter in the sunny ray, 
And Silence o*er the vale her sceptre sways, 
Save where the blackbird pours an amorous lay, 
Or from the hamlet swells the voice of praise. 

Save that, from yonder ancient sacred pile. 
The rooks, disturbed, awake their clamorous strain; 
And Echo answering from each mouldy aisle. 
With note responsive, rings along the plain. 

Beneath that tott'ring spire, within these walls. 
With pulpit graced, and time-worn pews replete; 
There, while the parson reads his lifeless drawls. 
The toilworn cottagers securely sleep. 

The hoarse precentor's rude attempt at praise. 
The fleeting hour just ringing o^er their heads, 
The parson^s drowsy speculative essays. 
No more can rouse them from their uncouth beds. 



RURAL POETRY,. 77 

No more for them their faithful pastor cares, 
(Removed from Earth beyond the starry sphere). 
No more for them ascend his fervent prayers, 
Nor down his cheek distils the silent tear. 

Oft did they sit beneath the joyful sound. 
Oft did its cheering accents hope impart; 
How did their bosoms feel Conviction^s wound} 
How did his warm instructions reach the heartl 

Let not the slothful mock his arduous toil. 
His manners meek — his life unstain'd and purej 
Nor Folly hear, with proud sarcastic smile, 
Their praise who preach the gospel to the poor. 

The boast of orat'ry, the pomp of words, 
And all that Schools or Colleges e*er gave, 
A feeble refuge to the soul afibrds, 
If hid the doctrine that alone can save. 

Nor you, ye sullen sceptics, vent a sneer; ^ 

Ne'er can your hollow schemes acceptance find; 
Through tenfold darkness lies your blind career. 
While Terror frowns before, and Guilt behind. 

Can rhet'ric^s charms, or reason^s boasted powers,t 
Back from Destruction pluck degenerate man; 
Can flinty rocks dissolve witli gentle showers,^ 
Or Man unriddle Heaven's eternal plan? 

Perhaps in garb of peace might yet be found 
Some heart that after boundless sway aspires. 
Hands that could scatter war and death around,. 
Or light unhallow^'d Persecution's fires; 

But Knowledge now unfolds her ample page. 



78 RURAL POETRY^ 

To charm, ennoble, and expand the mind; 
And wholesome laws controul the bigot's rage. 
And fetter fast the headstrong zealot blind. 

Full many a coxcomb, ignorant and loud, 
The cushion thumps, and Reason puts to flight j 
Full many a heretic attracts the crowd, 
And leads them downward to infernal night.- 

Some little Wolsey, who, with haughty stride. 
In holy garb, a baron's pomp displays; 
Some spotless Bonaparte may here reside; 
Some Priestly, lost in error's winding maze* 

The envied sweets of uncontrourd command^ 
The endless cabals and intrigues of state. 
The bigot laws that vex a suffering land, 
And hurl with holy wrath the bolts of Fate> 

The times forbid — nor these forbid alone — 
Their growing vices nipt, their power confin'dj 
Forbid to shake fair Truth's eternal throne, 
And shut the gates of knowledge on mankind. 

The Truth in veil of endless doubt to hide, 
A zealous brother's efforts to despise. 
In solemn guise to pamper lust and pride. 
Would seem the only excellence they prize. 

Unknown to them the faithful pastors toilj 
With gun and beagles fleet they hie awayj 
Display at even' the forest^s bleeding spoil. 
And drink and fiddle out the useless day. 

Yet even these men from insult to protect. 
The sevenfold adamantine shield of law. 



UURAL POETRY. 79 

In folly ^s spite, and bold avowed neglect, 
Demands a tribute of respect and awe. 

Their solemn face demure, and work divine, 
Inspire with confidence and fearless trust, 
Till, lost in luxury and sloth supine, 
They rouse abhorrence and excite disgust. 

For who, to listless apathy a prey, 
Their souls to such conductors e'er resigned; 
Who push aside bright Revelation's ray. 
And blunder on, and blindly lead the blind. 

On hope more sure the Christian soul relies, 
A hope that wak'd Isaiah's hallow'd lyre; [skies. 
Even hope in Him whose fingers stretch'd the 
And at whose fiat Time shall soon expire. 

For thee, who, heedless of fellClerick rage. 
Dost in these lines their faults and follies rate, 
If chance thy memory live a fleeting age, 
Some Poetaster shall enquire thy fate. 

Haply some cottager, with hoary locks. 
May heave a feeling sigh and thus exclaim: — 
** Oft have I -seen the boy unpen his flocks. 
And hail, with whistle shrill, the morning beam. 

" There at the foot of yonder rising hill. 
That swells its bold projecting cliffs so high, 
(Strange wayward waght!) he lov*d to linger still. 
Charmed with the tinkling stream^s wild lullaby. 

' «* Hard by yon sunny slope, now rich in corn, 
Oft have I seen him guide the rugged plow, 



80 RURAL POETRY. 

Or wield the sickle blythe on Autumn morn, 
While Health sat smiling on his youthful brow. 

^* One morn I missed him on th^ accustomed plain. 
Mute was the song and whistlers wonted glee; 
Another came — for him we looked in vain. 
Nor in the shade, nor at the plough was he. 

** The next we heard, that, to the city fled, 
He too had bid the grove a long farewell. 
Entangled in the vexing toils of trade. — 
The rest that Memorandum best can tell.'' 

THE MEMORANDUM. 

Here, though remote from scenes of early joy, 
Though trade demands his unremitting care, 
Though love and friendship's sweets, that never 

cloy, 
Smooth life's rovigh path, and all his sorrow^s share j 

Yet roving Fancy loves to linger still. 
In sylvan scenes that charmed his youthful days, 
To mark the torrent tumbling down the hill. 
Or woodland songsters' sweetly varied lays. 

No farther seek his history to disclose. 
Nor proudly spurn his low obscure abode. 
Where, far frae Wealth and Want's unnumbered 

waes, , 

Dwells calm contented Toil,— the gift of God. 



a.URAL POETRY. 81 



The Rhijmers Lament. 



A PARODY. 



Pity the sorrow's of a hapless Bard 

Whose sanguine hopes begin to droop and fail; 
Who fame pursues, the Poet's great reward^ 

Aud roams with pensive air the blossomed dale. 

These sullen looks my disappointment speak, 
These languid eyes proclaim my recent tears ; 

The transient red that streaks my pallid cheek. 
E'en Y^hile it speaks my hop^s, betrays my fears. 

Yon princely mansion on the rising ground, 
Of tempting wealth and power the splendid 
home; 
Even there I hop'd a patron to have found. 
But, ah! he frown'd and muttering cry'd *^ be- 
gone." 

Hard is his lot who, destitute and poor. 

Is out on life's rude common friendless cast; 

About I turn'd me from his lordly door. 

Drifting before Misfortune's sweeping blasts 

Oh !^ yet bestow the envied meed of praise; 

Keenly I feel Neglect's ungenerous sting; 
So shall contentment crown my latter days, 

And Fancy yet may stretch her sportive wing. 

Should I reveal the sources of my w^oe 

Relenting pity would overwhelm your breast; 



% 82 RURAL POETRY. 

Soon would your tongues the airy boon bestow, 
And I, poor caitiff! find content and rest. 

Heaven sends misfortunes, — why shoul^ I repine, 
Though forc'd to live unknown, and sigh for- 
lorn; 

Yet think what painful anxious thoughts are mine, 
A wounded spirit how hardly to be borne. 

A Ballad writer was my early lot, 

Then every village echoed with my strains; 
But ah! I try'd to swell a bolder note, 
^ And rous'd to rage the critics' morbid brains. 

My fame, once spotless as the mountain snow. 
No more through towns and villages is borne; 

By harpy critics doomed to shades below, 
A mark of raillery, contempt and scorn. 

My soul that once gave Fancy ^s flowers to bloom. 
And woke to harmony the vocal wire. 

Sinks, trembling sinks, in melancholy gloom, 
While o'er me creeps the chilling damp of fear. 

** Pity the sorrows of a hapless Bard 

Whose sanguine hopes begin to droop and fail; 

Who fame pursues, the Poet's great reward. 
And roams with pensive air the blossomed dale.*' 



RURAL POETRY. S3 



Rough Reform. 

A DIALOGUE. 



** Meddle not with them that are given to change/* 

Solomon, 

The e'enin' sun, descendin' low. 
Had set the Grampians in a glow, 
And owre their lofty summit peeping, 
His ruddy ray on Earn was sleeping; 
When forth I wander'd to inhale 
The cooling freshness o' the gale, 
Dow^n by yon steddin', warm and snug, 
#The rural cot o' Symon Hogg; 
Whare in the cart-house he was scourin^ 
Some iron that rust had been devovmn^ 
It looked like some haufworn scythe. 
Or blade had seen the forty-five; 
When, steppin' slowly by the yard. 
Came auld sagacious Peter Baird; 
A chield w^hase' prudence nane denies; 
Age and reflection made him wise. 
Round like mysel he had been walking. 
And thus to Sym begun a talking. 

PETER. 

Guid e'enin', neighbour, — vow ye're thrang, 
Tho' e'en the woodlark quats her sang. 
And through the deepening shades o' gloamiu* 
The beetle's wizard note is bummin\ 



8i^ KUBAL POETKY, 

And Symon, if I'm free to speer, 
What's this ye're rubtrin' up sae clear? 

SYMON. 

I'm scouring up my GutchinV sword, 
Lest Tyranny and I discord, 
Preparing, wi' the sooty cattle. 
To gie aald Despotism battle. 

PETER. 

Weel, Symon, troth Pm glad to hear it, 
I like to see a man o' spirit; 
For though just now we're blessed wi' Peace, 
Yet War may shortly shaw his iacei 
Then in grim- battlers louring front 
May Symon bravely bear the brunt, 
Still in your country^s service staunch, 
And pour her vengeance on the French, 

SYMON, 

My friend, we needna gae sae far; 
There's cause eneugh at hame for war: 
Base chields in power, we dinna want, 
Whase })ensions, taxes, war, and want, 
Hae plung'd us a* in sad distress; 
But now I think we'll hae redress. 
I trow braw pensioners are shakin*. 

And e'en stout C... h is quakin"; 

We*ll hurl him soon frae his high station. 
And headlong drive a Reformation; 
Pack aff the hale oppressive gang, 
Wha, troth, hae rui'd the roast owre lang. 



i 



RURAL POETRY. 85 

PETER. 

Hegh ! Symon lad, ye're fairly changed; 
I'm wae to see ye sae deranged. 
Your inconsiderate harangue 
Is just the fulsome nauseous slang 
O* thae mad sons o* desperation, 
Whase constant cry is " Reformation.'^ 
And if they wad reform themsel, 
I trow, my friend, it would be wellj 
But say, before ye mak sic fuss. 
What this same Reformation is. 

SYMON. 

What is it — sure ye're no sae blind. 
But ye may see't, if sae inch'n^d : 
A Parliament fu^ o* corruption, 
Taks every plan for our destruction. 
By a few landholders elected, 
While common folk are quite neglected j 
And, Peter, it is our intent 
To hae mae folk in Parliament; 
Chiels that will fairly represent ye. 
An' winna bribe, I shall indent ye. 

PETER. 

Corruption, Sympn, is not scarce. 
Companion of the human race; 
But whether there's a greater share 
O* it in Parliament tlian elsevvhere, 
I shanna, Sym, pretend to say. 
Far as it lies out o* my way. 
It's easy to misrepresent 
Things planned and done wi^ guid intent; 
II 3 



86 RURAL POETRY. 

The secret springs are hid frae us 

That moves them aft to that or this. 

And our newspaper information 

Is a weak ground o^ condemnation. 

Us kintra folk are af ten brunt 

Wi^ blundering demagogues like Hunt, 

Pretendin' aye to be our friends, 

Just for their ain unhallow'd ends; 

Whereas they are our deadly foes. 

Their only aim is to oppose, 

And view, wi* dark malicious glow^r, 

Whatever is done by men in power; 

To please them were a vain attempt, 

Wha just exist on discontent. 

And whether mair Representation 

Wad much improve their situation 

Is hard to say; — of this Pm sure. 

They wadna be a hair mair pure, 

Unless ye prove some hungry sinner. 

That kens na whare to get his dinner. 

Wad be mair sw^eer to tak a bribe 

Than them wha thousands hae beside. 

And though your system were begun 

Still the ambitious wad get in; 

And still the rich, though senseless, clown, 

Wad purchase votes for half a crown. 

Thus stubborn Ignorance wad rule, 

And Sense and Poverty sing dool. 

*Tis clear our present legislators 

Are better vers'd in civil matters 

Than us, or ony kintia body, 

Wha never made sic things our study. 

That they hae fauts Pll no deny, 



RURAL POETRY. 8/ 

Buf , Symon, sae hae -tyou and I; 

And ye may seek in vain rioht lani; 

Fur men that never can do wrangj 

But there's less bribery I suppose 

In parliament than say their foes; 

For I observe, when there's occasion 

They speak good sense and in good season. 

I*m sure that aften for our guid 

Wi* heart and hand they Bluldly stoodj 

Widened our sacred privileges;* 

A blessing to a* future ages. 

But say what crimes do ye alledge, 

That thus sae high has rais'd your rage; 

For, on the whole, it's my opinion, 

They're no sae ill's ye ca' them, Symon. 

SYMON. 

They've foughten mair than twenty year 

To fix a despotism here; 

An' squandered a' our bluid and gear 

To fix the Pope in his auld chair; 

And now I think it's mair than time 

To visit on them ilka crime. 

An' shew them an effectual gate 

To heal the fest'ring wounds o' state; 

Bring on them a' deserv'd destruction, 

And in a halter hing corruption. 

Say, when did Kings get God's commission 

To practise knav'ry and oppression? 

On vrhat day o' Creation week 

Us slaves were made to work and weep? 

* The Toleration Act. 



88 RURAL POETRY. 

Our choice o^ gibbet, knife, or rope, 
Is a* our freedom and our hope. 

PETER. 

Sic questions were weel worth the brain 

O* that late patriot, Thomas Paine; 

Supported just wi* as guid reason, 

And every whit as much in season. 

*Twere easy, dii||I mean to mock ye. 

To speer enew o* things w^ad blot yej 

But, Symon, its not my intention 

Vainly to puzzle your invention 

Wi* useless questions about kings. 

That truly little profit brings; 

But toil of body, or of mind, 

Heaven has entailed on all mankind; 

And vainly are ye discontented 

Wi* that frae which nane are exempted. 

Your questions then we*ll let alone. 

And to your ither fauts gae on. 

An' first, the war *bout which your grudging 

Was nae crusade about religion. 

But a magnanimous effort 

To check a Tyrant^s cruel sport, 

Wha, some years since, wi' blasting breath. 

Declared he'd root us aff the earth; 

Wi' Britains blood his drouth wad quench. 

An' leave us neither root nor branch; 

And though he hadna been sae ill. 

Yet had that soldier got his will, 

He soon wad raz'd our priviledges, 

An' swept away the boast of ages. 

Turn'd to a military school, 



RURA'L POETRY. 89 

How wad v/e groan'd beneath his riilef 
While dreadfu' owre our ruin*d nation 
Had frown'd the peace o* desolation, 
And Atheism, blackened hag! 
Had owre us wav'd her daemon flagj 
While Liberty, Religion, Law, ' . 

Had served to glut her hungry mawj 
Shut sacred knowledge starry gate, 
And thus forever sealed our fate. 
The blood and treasure tha*it cost 
(x4.t least to Britain) was not lostj 
Fae tho^ 1 am to cruel war, 
I'd rather see again his car, 
And mingle on the tented plain, 
Amid the death denouncing strain^ 
And in the cause o* freedom bleed, 
Than sic a system should succeed. 
iSo much for war; and for the Pope 
They neither put him down nor up; 
In this they rightly judgM, I think, 
That by the sword tie wadna sink, 
No-^sacred Truth's eternal light 
Must banish superstitious night, 
Frae tenfold darkness free the mind, 
And £?ive new vision to the blind. 
The Bible read through every natiort 
Will prove the means of reformation;"" 
Its sacred light and glowing heat 
Will make Rome's bitter waters sweet* 
And what a despotism is 
We dinna ken, and that's our bliss; 
But were ye some few years in Spain,. 
Ye'd fiel it, and complain in vain; 



90 RURAL POETRY- 

CrushM by a Hydra Inquisition, 

Grim brotherhood o' dark perdition, 

Wha calmly can leuk on, and smile. 

While Freedom mounts her funeral pile. 

And Piety resigns her life 

Beneath the sacrificer^s knife ; 

And Tyranny, wi^ giant arm, 

Securely sits and mocks reform — 

Yes, — hard the storm, but near the breakhig; 

The royal barken rent and leaking; 

Revenge, wi' knitted brow, is louring. 

Valour, his twa edg^d sword is scouring j 

A little, and the &torm shall blow, 

And sweep them to the shades belowj 

Then, where their hideous ruin lies, 

Shall Truth's eternal temple rise. 

And Freedom ^s standard bright, unfurPd, 

Wave o'er the renovated world; 

Then titled Tyranny shall die; 

In all its forms shall Slavery fly; 

Then shall the natural rights o* men 

Be freely ov/n'd, uor own'd in vain; 

While Truth and Right's eternal law 

Governs the rich aud rules the sma; 

And War's loud murder sounding knell, 

And mad Ambition, sink to helL 

This day ye yet mry live to see, 

When Spain shall be, as Britain, free. 

Were you Reformers there a year. 

Ye mair wad prize your blessings here; 

Whare virtuous Freedom loves to dwel], 

And Safety reigns in every vale. 

What! Svhelm the land in civil broils. 



RURAL POETRY., 91 

That vicious men may share our spoils j 
Bareflic'd, designing desperadoes, 
Wha ne'er had liberty to lose; 
Complaining ay *bout this and that, 
Nor kenning what they wad be at. 
Though things are noaye toyourmindj 
Whare will you faultless rulers find? 
Our debt, which nane denies is great, 
Was borrowed to avert our fate; 
Compared wi* which, dear neighbour Symon, 
The sum, though great, is no worth naming. 
And if reform by force, ye hope, 
Ye'U better ^^ leuk before you ioup.'* 

SYMON. 

Now baud ye there, — the times are hard;— 

To pay the taxes and the laird, 

I trow, is no an easy matter, 

An^ Parliament might mak it better; — 

Lang hae we fought and wished for Peace, 

It*s come, and wi'it black distress; 

Aye, — true it is, — I mean nae libel, 

Nor wad I wish to be a r^el; 

A friend I am t' the Constitution, 

Though knaves hae ta^en awa its fusion; 

It's them I hate, and a' they're doing, 

An^ greatly dread mischief is brewing. 

PETER. 

The very thought o't makes me wae; 
I hope ye'U never see that day 
Wad bury, in ae common grave, 
Ilk thing worth keeping that we have. 



92 RULAL POETRt; 

For were the powerfu* arm o' Law 
By force relaxed, then, (safe as a'l) 
What anarchy and desolation 
Wad reign instead o' Reformation: 
Grim War, wi' giant aim, wad tear, 
Wi* ghastly Famine in his rear. 
While ruthless Rapine in their train. 
And Murder, scour the groaning plain. 
Then thro^ yoiu' lately happy cot 
The storm wadiiowl a sullen note; 
Your helpless bairns wi' hunger dying; 
Your aged father feebly flying; 
And villains ye ance thought your friends. 
Behaving waur than ony fiends; 
Then, for the merle^s mellow note, 
Ye^d hear the trumpet's brazen throat: 
And murderer's, haunting ilka wood, 
Watchin' their time to shed your blood, 
Wi' twice ten thousand ither q^ils, 
Wad gar Reformers leuk like devils; 
While, frae the human bosom driven, 
Truth, Love, and Mercy fly to heaven. 
And why a' this — our trade is dull— 
An' siller scarce—the times are ill- — 
An' Taxes (that sae black ye've painted) 
At present canna weel be wanted— 
And some may hae owre muckle pension,- 
(Yet wad they hae the condescension 
To stay at hame amang oursells. 
And spend it in their native vales. 
They thus might nourish droopin' trade. 
And mak the pale mechanic glad; 
For troth I see but little sense 



RURAL POETRY. 93 

In galloping awa to France, 
To lae our gowd, and spend their days, 
'Mang Britain^s maist inveterate faes.) 
Yet sair I dread that Parliament 
Cannot the evil times prevent; 
Rir deeper lies our cause o^ pain 
Than the mismanagements o' men: 
It^s clear we hae high Heaven offended. 
Whose judgments have on us descended; 
An' men o* every rank and station. 
By individual reformation 
Wad do mair guid, I trow, by far, 
Than all the thunderbolts o* war; 
This wad a thousand ills prevent. 
And nip the buds o^ discontent. 

Oh, Discontent! thou fiend o' Hell, 
Caus'd Hornie even in Heaven rebel, 
And hurl'd him frae the seats o* bliss 
To Ruin*s bottomless abyss* 
Though happy Eden bloom'd sae fair, 
Yet soon ye found a corner there. 
And spew'd your deadly venom thence, 
That's poison'd Nature ever since; 
An' ^till ye're at your ruthless work. 
For War and Ruin is your sport. 
Aye when this temper wad prevail 
Throw in your blessings in the scale; 
In even balance weigh your actions, 
I Nor rashly follow desp'rate factions; 
For Sym, it maun be understood, 
Nae man is hinder'd to do good; 
An* sure a freedom to do evil 
I Wad only satisfy the deviL 

I 



9i , UURAL POETRt. 

Wad ye benevolence display, 

Or lead the youth in wisdom's way. 

Or labour to reclaim the fool, 

Or point the rake to virtue's school. 

Or ony ither virtuous action, 

Whare is the man will mak objection? 

The Pulpit *s free, and sae *s the Press, 

And, if wrang'd, ye'll get redressj 

Thus Freedom shields our happy isle. 

And mild Religion deigns to smile; 

While safe we sit beneath our shade, 

Nane daring to make us afraid. 

Soon shall our grievances blow over. 

For evil disna last for ever; 

The dormant energies o* Trade 

Shall yet revive and mak ye glad. 

Now, Symon, say wad it be wise 

These sterlin' blessings to despise; 

And, just to please some knaves' ambition. 

In civil feuds embroil the nation? 



SYMON. 

Troth, Peter, what ye've said about it, 
I maun confess, has made me doubt it; 
J'll think on't ere I mair dispute it. 

PETER. 

Do sae, and now I maun be stepping 
For see, the gloamin' star is settin'; 
An', save the murmur o* the river. 
Deep silence reigns the valley over; 
While wide th^ fostering dews hae shed 
Bright balmy ftrops on ilka blade; 



} 



RURAL POETRY. 



95 



And sec the moon ascending bright 

To light me hame,— my friend, guid night. 



A Crieff Fair. 

Rouse thee, my friend, for see the fair commen- 

ces,^ — 
What crowds are pouring in from every quarter! 
While, on the roads, carts, cattle, men and horses, 
Mingle promiscuous. 

Yonder^s the factor; see, he nods most gracious 
To hats that throng his path, pulPd off, obsequi- 
ous, [*em. 
From slavish heads that ne'er deserv'd to wear 
Cringing before him. 

With whip in hand there goes the booted farmer. 
Studious of cattle, grain and rising prices. 
Elbowing the crowd he seeks the rich forestaller. 
Basest of felons. 

There come the rural beauties, plump and rosy. 
Still as they move along with smiles alluring 
Yon rustics trim in holiday apparel, 

Ackwardly staring* 

Here the forsaken virgin wanders slowly. 
Marking with aching heart her scoundrel lover 
With the fine feelings of the female bosom 
Cruelly sporting. 



96 RURAL POETRY. 

Here meet on this (long since) the day appointed5 
The debtor poor and eager creditor; [nien^ 

There ruddy milk-maids stand, and sturdy plow- 
Anxious for masters, 

Mark there, my friend, in long extended ranges. 
The lank and meagre looking sons of Crispin, 
With the long lash of griping penury 
Sadly belaboured. 

Well may you trace, in every swarthy visage, 
The keen anxiety that racks their bosoms; 
Thoughtful of Tanners* bills, and empty purses, 
Ruin presaging. 

Ye Powers who measure out our earthly portion* 
Oh save me from this lowest ebb of Fortune, 
Doom'd to contend with higg^ling Ignorance, 
Rude and unfeeling. 

But Peace,—- no more — away, ye dire forebodings; 
Hark! from the lips of that Hibernian wanderer 
How sweetly flows that pleasing plaintive ditty, 
'Wailing his country. 

Oh ye who hear great Homer's name with reve- 
rence. 
Whose bosoms glow with sacred sympathy; [trel 
With gen'rous feelings view the wand'ring mins- 
Claiming your pity. 

Want, mighty master! many are thy pupils: 
The Preacher, Poet, Law7er, own thy teaching; 
And, schooled by thee, this stranger's latent sor- 
rows 

Break forth in singing. 



RURAL POETRY^ 97 

How stunning to the ear, harsh and ungrateful, 
That bustHng auctioneei^'s vexatious clamour, 
Skiird in the arts of grossest impositionj 
Harden'd in lying. 

On this side and on that loquacious hucksters, 
Calling attention to their tottering tables, [dren. 
Wheedle the cash from strutting beaus and chil- 
Fond of confections. 

There goes, with amputated arm, the beggar. 
And wooden-legged sailor, bold and formal, 
Shew^ing their mangled bodies; thus exciting 
Commiseration* 

Here loaded dice decides the fated shilling. 
And penny lotteries ply their puny efforts. 
With ev'ry form of legalized knavery, 
Trick and delusion. 

See there, with louring, dark, designing features,. 
The ragged train of practised villany : 
The nimble pickpocket, and thief, more cautious. 
Herding together. 

Here meet, as in the grave, the young and aged; 
Here, rich and poor, and good and bad assemble^ 
And many come only to swell the numbers; 
Gazing around them. 

But come, my friend, and homeward let us has- 
For see, the reeling whisky-drinking vermin [ten^ 
Begin to rage like frantic bedlamites. 

Heaven blaspheming.. 

Adieu! ye motley crowd; welcome, sweet Nature! 

13 



98 RURAL POETRY. 

Green fields and towering forests, ye are lovely. 
And chiefly now when the last glow of evening 
Gilds you with splendour. 



Epistle to a Student. 

JANUARY, 1817- 

Cease, Controversy, power unkind! 
Thy knitted brow and tart reply j 

Nor ruffle J *s placid mind. 

Nor fire his laughter loving eye.. 

Come Love, from thy celestial home; 
.Sweet Friendship, yet return a whilej 
Come Reason, mount thy starry thronej 
Come Humour, with thy playful smile. 

Oh, gentle powers! divinely fair! 
With me the passing hour employ; 
•Tis yours to chase the daemon Care, 
And tune the human heart to joy* 

What though to cloud the newborn year, 
Lone Misery's wailing numbers flow. 
And poor Misfortune^s bitter tear 
Swells high the tide of human woe; 

Yet heavenly HLope, her visions mild, 
Unfolding, points to halcyon daysj 
Shoots, like a sunbeam through the wild. 
To scenes where Fancy raptured plays. 



RURAL POETRY. 99 

She speaks — and lo! to bless our eyes; 
Fair Commerce spreads her snowy sail; 
Industry ev^ry sinew plys, 
And Plenty crowns each laughing vale. 

Though dormant, like the sleeping flower 
That Flora's breath shall w^ake again, 
Trade yet her varied stores shall pour, 
And Pleasure chaunt her cheerful strain. 

Soon with grim Winter^s lingering storm 
Shall Want's sad murmurs die away, 
And wild Despair's distracting form 
Shall fly before a better day. 

Meantime Benevolence and Love 
Shall cheer the bleak abodes of woej 
From hearts akin to those above. 
Thy streams, fair Charity ! shall flow. 

Ye wint'ry glooms, oh! speed aw^ay; 
Return again, ye vernal gales! 
Haste ye, bright blooms of cheerful May! 
Entice young J e to the vales. 



«'%%%'»^'V% v%«^ w 



<nie Fate of Maiy, 

A TAtE or TRUTH. 

The first hint of the following Tale was taken from a 
circumstance mentioned in the newspapers, some years 
ago, of a vessel foundering on the nortli coast of Scot- 



100 RURAL POETRY. 

land; when (melancholy to relate!) only one child escap- 
ed, almost by miracle. 



" God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea> 

And walks upon the storm.'* 

COWPER. 



PART I. 

A virtuous couple's hapless fate. 
Whence tender sorrows spring; 

A lovely Orphan's varied state; 
Propitious Muses! sing. 

Nor you, ye learned few! despise 

The simple tale of woe; 
For suffering worth let Pity rise, 

Though rude the numbers flow. 

Alcander was a man of worth, 

A merchant well belov'd; 
No Scottish youth in all the north 

More love and friendship proved. 

His heart, with sacred virtue stor'd. 

Could melt at Nature's call; 
And, like the Universal Lord, 

Was kind and good to alL 

Fair Adeline his bosom :warm'd, 
With love's bewitching pain; 

And she, by worth and goodness cliarm^d, 
Confessed an equal flame. 



RURAL POETRY. lOl 

A fiiirer maid — a fonder youth — 

Ne'er own'd the silken bands; 
Nor lovM with more unspotted truth. 

When Hymen joined their hands. 

That happy hour the wishes^^ crown *d 

That virtuous love inspires; 
Their wilHng hearts were sweetly bound 

In Friendship's purest fires. 

Thus human life may often seem 

A pure unmingPd stream; 
Yet vexing cares will intervene, 

A chequer o^er tha scene. 

Aroused at Commerce* stern command^ 

They faithless seas explore. 
And left a while their native land 

For Russia's wintry shore. 

Soon wafted o'er the northern main 
They reached the destined place; 

Yet still for Scotland felt a pain 
Which Time could ne'er efface. 

(Oh 1 Home, thy strong mysterious ties 

Still tw^ine around theheart; 
Wealth cannot please, nor fairer skies^ 

If forced from thee to part-) 

Prosperity her bounty shed 

To bless the virtuous pair; 
And ere three fleeting years were fled,. 

Heavensgave a daughter fair. 

Not early Rose, o'er Russian wild^^ 
That sheds its soft perfume. 



102 RURAL POETRY/ 

So fair as infant Mary smiPd, 
In Nature's artless bloom. 

Her joyful parents now resolved 

For Scotland home to steer, 
Ere wintry storms again revolved, 

To waste the fading year. 

Yet busy Commerce' thousand cares 

Employ Alcander's mind; 
His wide extended trade affairs 

He could not leave behind. 

Embarked at length with all his wealth, 
Bright hope his bosom swells, 

Of lenthen'd days of joy and health, 
In Scotland's peaceful vales. 

To-morrow's fate, ah! who can t«llj 

Or read the dark decree; 
His happy home, and native vale. 

He never more shall see. 

Though gently heav'd the flattering deep, 
Though gently blew the gale; 

Too soon the tempest woke from sleep, 
The waves tumultuous swell. 

The sullen sky begins to lowr. 
Sea- monsters sport and play, 

Tremendous, threatening to devour. 
They fright the scowling day. 

The tempest wild, on sable wing, 
Now sweeps the foaming main; 



RURAL POETRY. lOST 

Loud in the shrouds the whirlwinds sing, 
The pilot's art is vain. 

For now the waters lash the skies, 

Their bark is headlong driven; 
The Scottish hills now greet their eyes 

Beneath a milder heaven. 

The surge-worn shore they almost reach 

Swift as the arrow's flight, 
(A peasant on the lonely beach 

Beheld their woeful plight j) 

But whence that dreadful crashing shock! 

Ah whence these rueful cries! 
The flying vessel strikes a rock, 

And hope forever flies. 

The gloomy fates swift gather round. 
Death rides the threatening wave; 

While many a friendly bosom found 
A cold and watery grave. 

Alcander and his lovely wife 

Were well prepared to die; 
But for the infant Mary's life 

Their prayers ascend on high. 

A jewel bright of polish'd gold, 

That bore his father's cr^st, 
With golden chains her neck enfold, 

Suspended at her breast; 

LashM to a floating plank, the child, 
Her fate they trust to Godj 



104 RURAL POETUY* 

While on the deck, distracted — wild'— 
They mark'd her dreadful road. 

On liquid hills she mounts the air. 

Now skims a horrid vale; 
Serenely smiled the infant fair, — ^ 

Her danger who can tell! — 

Amazed, the trembling Peasant ey*d 

The infant ride the flood; 
And often on his God he cried 

To guide her where he stood. 

His prayer prevaiPd, and pitying Heaven 

An instant answer gave; 
Swift to the beach, in safety driven, 

He snatch'd her from the wave. 

When tempests threat* the travellers* doom, 
YouVe seen the Sun's last ray 

Just struggle through and gild the gloom, 
And bid faixwell to day; 

So Joy each parentis bosom warms 
When Mary reacli'd thesliore; 

Then, clasp'd in one another's arms, 
They sunk, — to rise no more. 

Such was the sovereign will of heaven; 

Tlie cause who can explore? 
It must be good — to Man is given 

To wonder and adore. 

Ye virtuous pair! a long farewell; 

Your lot the Muses weep; 
Though angry oceans o^er you swell 

They cannot break your sleep^ 



RUEAL POETRV* 105 



Adieu! till that important hour 
When Death must yield his prey; 

You'll then exchange the tyrant's power 
For Heaven's eternal day. 



PART II. 

It chanc'd the bold adventurous swain, 
That sav'd her from the deep. 

Could feel for human woes a pain, 
" And weep with them that weep.*^ 

Deep in the windings of a glen 
Beside the mountain flood, 

Far from the crooked ways of men. 
His humble cottage stoodj 

A virtuous wife endeared his home, * 
In peace their years were spentj 

Their babes had found an early tomb, 
Yet heaven bestow'd content.^ 

And here the orphan Mary founa 

A peaceful happy homej 
Where Piety shed blessings round. 

And Health auspicious shone. 

And still with kind unwearied care 
They rearM the lovely child. 

Who blossom'd like the lily fair. 
Her looks and nature mildj 
. K 



106 RURAL POETRY. 

And well her youthful mind they stor'd 

With simple mountain lorej 
A God, beneficent and kind, 

They taught her to adore. 

For grace her wayward heart to melt. 

They taught her still to pray; 
And that the Orphan's shield and help 

Might ever prove her stay. 

And Mary's was a feeling heart. 

Where pure devotion shone; 
Her vespers rose, unknown to art. 

And reach'd the heavenly throne. 

And still their little flock she kept 
When Spring renewed the year ; 

And oft, with melting heart, she wept 
Her parents^ fate to hear. 

And oft she climb'd the headland steep 

To view their wat'ry grave. 
When Summer storms, with sudden sweep, 

Arous'd^e fateful wave; 

And oft, wnen rustling Autumn winds 
Pip'd through the fading grove. 

Well pleas'd she joinM the reaper hinds, 
And smiPd unknown to love. 

JIow vain, in this degenerate age, 

Meek modest beauty's glow! 
5^ or virtue's charms the heart engage; 

^Tis gold that strikes the blow. 

Oh! many a swain for Mary sigh'd. 
And felt love's soft alarms; 



RUFxAL POETUY. 107 

But, oh! all-powerful gold denied 
To aid her virgin charms; 

Thus, far in some sequesterM green, 

A fair neglected rose, 
(By none but browsing cattle seen,) 

All unregarded blows. 

But, ah! the fair have many a foe. 

Whom lawless Inst inspires; 
Whose dark unhallow'd passions glow 

With foul infernal fires. 

Sir Robert own'd the neighboring seat,— 

Seduction was his trade; 
And often, as he pass'd in state. 

He ey*d the lovely maid^ 

And now his purposes to gain. 

He plied his cruel art; 
Yet promised, flatter'd, soothed, in vain— 

For virtue steel' d her heart. 

He bade her spurn the rural life; 

His ample fortune share; 
To be a clownish shepherd's \^e 

She was too good and fair. 

That Pleasure in his halls for aye 

Upheld her gentle reign. 
And love bare universal sway, 

Unknown to care or pain; 

That still a princely chariot grand. 

And liveried servants gay. 
Should ever wait at her command^ 

Her orders to obey. 



108 RURAL POETRY. 

But Piety had Mary taught 

That Vice destruction brings; 
His proffers vile she set at nought, 

And scorn'd his glitt'ring thiijgs: 

*^ No chariot fair can charm my eyes, 

Nor all your golden store; 
What nature wants the cot supplies; 

Why should I ask for more ? 

O ne'er shall Pleasure's gaudy-face, 
Nor wealth nor grandeur tempt 

To sell my innocence and peace. 

Fair hope and sweet content.'' , 

She said, and, swift as mountain lamb 

By rav'nous fox pursued. 
Fled from the dark designing man, 

And spurned his purpose lewd. 

" Thou shalt not thus escape," he cfy^d, 

And seized the fainting maid; 
Her helpless case young William ey'd, 

And to her rescue fled. 

** Draw, vill^iin, draw, — and, blade to blade, 

Defend thyself or die;" 
Like guilty thief the coward fled. 

Nor ventured a reply. 

*^ And dost thou fly?" brave William cried, 

Unworthy of my sword; 
Then to console the maid, applied, 

And fainting life restored. 

The Baron gone — soon fled her fears — 
New flushed her blooming charms. 



RURAL POETRY^ 109^ 

Divinely glow*d, as, bathed in tears. 
She blushed in William's arms^ 

He gaz^d, and wist not what to say, 
While thanks her lips employ'dj 

He felt her beauty's powerful sway 
His peace of mind destroyed. 

And William was the pride of swains. 

Brave, generous, wise and fair. 
The path of vice his soul disdains,. 

His father's only heir. 

His honoured sire, a reverend priest. 
Whom heaven had blest with wealth; 

Fair Temperance spread his frugal feast j 
His guests. Content and Health. 

His heart was gen'rous, feeling, kind. 

His locks were silver grey; 
And polish'd learning stor'd his mind,' 

Beneath Religion's sway. 

And well his sacred work he lovMi 

To it his heart w^as given; 
Affliction sooth'd, and Vice reprovM, 

And trained his flock for heaven. 

Young William was his latest joy 
Since heaven his spouse removed; 

And well he lov'd the virtuous boy, 
And well his choice approved. 

For Mary felt the gentle power, 

While often in the grove 
They walk'd, and talk'd the blissful hour,. 

Beneath the star of love. 
K 3 



110 ' RURAL POETRY. 

And soon the nuptial day was set; 

His father join'd their handsj — 
A fairer couple never met 

In Hymen's holy bands. 

The swain that had her life preserved, 
(To deck her nuptial breast,) 

The precious jewel still reserved. 
That bare her grandsire's crest. 

It met the parson's eye, who strict 
Enquired who gave the boon — 

** My parents hung it round my neck 
The horn' they met their doom/' 

** It must — it is — my father's face — 
His looks and features mild;" — 

Then clasp'd her in his fond embrace; 
" My brother's lovely child ! 

'Twas Heaven from sinking in the wave 
Preserved your infant charms; 

Yes — Heaven my brother's daughter gave, 
To bless my William's arms. 

To yt)u who bade the infant live. 
And rear'd my daughter fair. 

Five hundred pounds I freely give. 
For all your love and care. 

May Heaven its choicest favours shed 

Upon yon and your race; — 
Now to the grave my hoary head 

Shall calm descend in peace." 

And long they liv^d, and well they lov^d, 
And rear'd a virtuous race, 



RURAL POEIKV* 111 

From strife and tumult far removed, 
The valley *s pride and grace. 

Young Health and Pleasure crowned their home 

At morn and dewy even. 
Thus virtuous love, and it alone, 

Is own^d and bless'd of Heaven. 



Lines Extempore^ 

WRITTEN IN A BOWER. 

Welcome, charming bower! thy smile; 

Thou canst please me for a while. 

Here let me sit, and think profound 

On lovely nature stretched around; 

The hill and dale, and tow'ring wood„ 

The copsewood warm, and shining flood. 

While Summer's leafy charms unfold. 

Or Harvest robes the fields in gold; 

Yet soon, too, soon, shalt thou decay, ^ 

And Winter blow thy charms aw^ay; 

Yet still the Wint'ry view shall please. 

The storm-clad fields, and hoary trees. 

The sunbeam on the snowy hill, 

The lingering night, clear, cold and still; 

Or the wild tempest's blackening train 

Pouring in torrents o'er the plain; 

Even scenes like these shaB please awhile, 

Till Spring return, with rosy smile. 

And Nature bloom — then thou, sweet bowerl 

Again shalt charm the passing hour. 



112 RURAL POETRY. 

Thus flies the life of Man away, 
A transient spring — a Summer's day-— 
Soon, soon it flies on pinions fleet, 
Soon Autumn furrows o'er his cheek. 
And Winter's dark overwhelming wave 
Sweeps off his body to the grave; 
Where dreamless sleep forgets to wake, 
Ti]l an eternal morning break. 



%^ %%^%%% v««%«« 



The Fatal Warnins. 



GHOST. 

*« Ruthless Halgar! hear thy doom: 
Now thy fatal day is come. 
Ere yon wildwood, hill and stream. 
Glow in Phoebus* setting beam, 
Halgar perishes forever, 
Ne*er a turf thy tomb shall coverj 
Swift the chief of yonder host 
Hurls thee to the Stygian coast. 
Nor shall maid thy fate lament. 
Wife nor child their sorrow^s vent, 
Nor fond Friendship heave a sigh, 
All forgotten shalt thou lie. 
Treading lifers receding verge 
Yonder Raven croaks thy dirge. 
And the sullen nlidnight skies 
Soon shall hear thy obsequies. 
Howled by furies 'midst the gloomj 
Halgar! tremble at thy doom/^ 



RURAL POETRY. 113 

Rage contracted Halgar's brow: 
Cursed spirit! who art thou? 
Dares, with tales of woe and death. 
Thus to stop my onwaid path/' 

GHOST. 

" Know^st thou not, betrayer vilet 

I — the victim of thy guile? 

Hast forgot the evening bower , 

Where we met that hapless hour; 

Where, amid the sylvan shade, 

Oft you vow'd, and then— betrayed. 

Man! perfidious and nnj^ust, 

Slave of cruelty and lust, 

Soon ye lov*d another dame; 

And, when told my growing shame. 

Fierce your steel (though heaven frowned) 

Pierced my bosom, — see the wound. 

Since, unseen, I marked thy path, 

Now a messenger of wrath. 

Darkening War^s tremendous gloom. 

Glad I come to tell thy doom. 

Vengeance hovers o'er thy head, 

None shall prosper where you lead; 

Soon thy once resistless host 

Flies discomfited and lost; 

From that fated death-strewn plain 

Halgar ne^er returns again; 

Pierced by great Virakdo's spear; 

Wolves thy faithless heart shall tear. 

Yonder wild that skirts the flood 

Soon shall drink thy streaming blood. 

And fell ghosts and da3mons foul 

Downw^ard drag thy lagging soul; 



114 RURAL POETKY. 

Heaven for thee has no room— 
Halgar! tremble at thy doom/' 

HAX5.GAR. 

*' Spirit foul! away — away*— 
Halgar meets this dreadful dayj 
Hurries to the tented field; 
Fears no foe, nor knows to yield. 
Halgar never fears nor flies; 
No — he conquers, or he — dies* 
Hecatombs of foemen slain 
Soon shall press the hostile plain; 
Chieftains by this arm o'erthrown; 
Halgar shall not die alone. 
Gleams Virando^s steel afar; 
Soon we meet in glorious war. 
Never shall his giant might 
Boasting tell I shunned the fight. 
If, at last, I greatly fall. 
Swift I'll rise to Odin*s hall. 
And, with chiefs of ages past, 
Ride the cloud and wing the blast* 
Aiding oft my native spear. 
Chilling foemen's hearts with fear. 
While the bards my lofty praise 
Sing in never-dying lays/* 



RURAL POETRY. 115 



Frazer. 

A DEATH SONG. 

Scene, in Spain — the evening after a battle. 
Tune — The Wounded Hussar. 

The battle had ceas*d, and the blood-tinged Du* 
roe 

Flowed mournfully on amid heaps of the slain^; 

Tlie moon, glimmering faintly, seemed sickening 
with sorrow. 

To see British heroes bestrewing the plain. 

There Frazer lay bleeding, and poured his sad 
strain; [tear; 

In his dim glistening eye stood AfFection^s warm 

While he thought on his Peggy, and sweet na- 
tive glen, 

In sorrow he melted, unconscious of fear. 

** Adieu, lovely maiden! fair flower of Glenfruin! 
No more shall we meet in the green hawthorn 

shade; 
In a far foreign land, amid slaughter and ruin. 
All bloody and pale, thy fond lover is laid. 
Yet, spite of stern fate and the battle's rude storm. 
Thy dear w^eeping image still dwells on my heart, 
As, frantic with grief, 1 beheld thy sw^eet form 
On that hapless morning that saw me depart. 

A lasting adieu to my dear native mountains. 
No more shall I rove on the thymy hill ^ide. 



116 RURAL POETRY. 

Nor water my flocks at the clear springing foun- 
tains 
Where health and fair freedom for ever reside. 
Adieu ! blooming vallies and cool woodland shade ; 
No more shall yoiir echoes repeat my rude strain; 
No more secret rapture my breast shall pervade. 
When viewing my Peggy trip o*er the green plain* 

But death is approaching — hushl fond recollec- 
tion — [[brave; 
With the brave I have liv*d, let me die with the 
The Muses shall tell my vmchanging affection. 
While laurels and myrtles bloom over my grave. 
Advance, thou grim tyrant! I fear not thy arm; 
On the red gory bed of bright honour I lie; 
And victory gilds thy pale cheek with a charm; 
For my country I liv*d — for my country I die.'* 



On a Noisy Precentor\ 

Not with a louder peal helhs caverns rung. 
When Satan roared along; the vast abvss,* 
Than, with stentorian voice, Gapanda sung, 
And both an equal harmony express, 
Th* effects the same; for, at their leader^s call. 
The fiends start up whom thunder erst did wound; 
When thro' the church was heard Gapanda's 

squall 
Th* affrighted hearers start from sleep profound. 
And, half awake, mistook the dulcet lay 

* See Milton. 



KURAL POETRY. , 117 

For LIon*s growl, or stubborn Ass's bray; 
At last he roared himself quite out of breath. 
Ye sons of harmony! bewail his death. 



'W*V**%V**^^%'*^ 



Epitaph on a faithful Minister of the Gospel. 

Reader! whoe'er thou art, that views this stone, 
Behold a good and just man's hallow'd tomb. 
Here, mix'd with kindred dust, Evander sleepsj 
While Genius heaves a sigh, and Virtue weeps. 
To soothe their sorrow, Faith's reviving ray [way. 
Brightens the gloom, and points to heaven tne 
There, there, she cries, the good Evander shines. 
No more on earth his righteous spirit pines. 
Nor mourns for sin; but, with the blessed above. 
He joins to celebrate redeeming lovej 
That love divine that saved him from wrath. 
And led his footsteps in an ^ven path. 
Yet Friendship weeps, and heaves the bitter sighj 
While busy-meddling Mem'ry, standing by. 
Points out the spot, and says, there lies the man 
That sweetly did unfold Salvation's plan. 
No more by him in terror speaks the law; 
No more his faithful warnings strike with awe; 
No more he dwells on Jesus* matchless grace, 
With kindling rapture beaming in his face; 
No more, alas! his sorrow-soothing strain 
Shall smooth the brow of conscious guilt and pain. 
Clos'd now his lips, and mute his fluent tongue. 
Where kindness dwelt, and sweet persuasion hung. 

L 



118 RURAL POETRY* 

" O follow Christ/' he said— but Memory, cease- 
Without a stain he ran his Christian race; 
And of this man the latter end was peace. 



«%%^%^ v^ %-v%^%« 



Verses addressed to a Celebrated Preacher. 

Oh ! missioned by the Powers above. 
To publish wide the joyful sound. 
Unfolding Jesus' matchless love. 

Which knows no bound; 

In language simple, yet sublime. 
Well can ye point the narrow way, 
Stretching through all the wilds of Time 
To endless day. 

Sincere in presence of thy God, 
Far from the tinsel tricks of art, 
^Tis thine, with skilful hand, to probe 
The human heart. 

The latent poison lurking there 
Its deep deceit and fest'ring pride, 
And Satan's every subtile snare, 
Ye well describe. 

^Tis thine to search through tenfold night 
The wild'ring maze of Error's den, 
And drag the monster forth to light, 
Unaw'd by men. 

The sleeping conscience to alarm. 
Well can you Sinai's thunders sv/ell,. 



^ 



RURAL POETRY. 119 

Where awful Justice, frowning stern, 
Points down to hell. 

Then when the trembling sinner seeks 
A shelter — soon thy alterM strain. 
Sweet as the jub'lee trumpet, speaks 
Goodwill to men. 

Mild bursting through the cloud afar. 
Which lately threaten^ a speedy doom. 
The cheering beams of Jacob's star 
Dispel the gloom. 

Jesus the Saviour there is found; 
The only hiding place for menj 
Which Wrath^s dread billows, dashing round. 
Assail in vain. 

Soon shall the Saviour his name 
Extend to Earth *s remotest shorej 
And Superstition's fatal dream 
Deceive no more. 

And well' the labours of thy pen 
Are calculated to impart 
Eternal truth to erring men, 

And warm the heart* 

Ne'er can the cross events of Time 
Restrain the ardour of thy soul, 
Fir'd with the hope of bliss divine. 
Beyond the Pole. 

Thus stood great Knox amid the storm 
Of mortal powers, in league with hell, 



120 HURAL PGETRV. 

Till Superstition's gorgon form 
Before him fell. 

Adieu! and oh excuse the rhyme 
That scorns a fawning song to raise; 
The faithful servants* meed be thine, 
And God's the praise. 



A Reflection on Psalm Ixxxiv. 10. 



'' A day in thy courts is better thai! a xiujysand.*' 

Yes! 'tis sweet, 'tis passing sweet, 
In thy hallowed courts to meet; 
Meet to hear the good and just 
Own thy name is all their trust; 
Sweet to hear thy people raise 
Loud the grateful song of praise; 
Sweet to hear assembled saints 
Tell thee, Father! all their wants; 
Still thy holy name adoring; 
Humbly meek thy grace imploring; 
Sweet to hear the joyful sound 
Of thy love that knows no bound. 
*^ Jesus died," transporting strain! 
Peace on earth — good will to men/' — 
News of pardon offered free; 
Of forgiveness found with Thee. 
Of glad freedom to the slave; 
And of victory o^er the grave; 



RURAL POETRY. 121 

And mild Mercy's ^luring voice 
Wooing from the pkths of vice. 
Sweet to feast, like those above, 
On the sweets of covenant Ipvej 
While thy spirit^s power is felt. 
Stubborn flinty hearts to melt; 
Sweetest peace of mind bestowing, 
From thy boundless treasures flowing. 
Such the sweets Religion bears 
Even in this vale of tears, 
When the blighting winds of Sin 
Scorch without and faint within. 
How will all her beauties glow. 
When transplanted from below. 
To the happy climes that lie 
Far above the day's bright eye. 
Where, in every blooming grove. 
Angels tune their harps to love; 
And from Life's transparent river 
Quaff immortal bliss for ever. 



-^^^^^ »'%V^ 



Hymn to the Deity. 

Thou! the Sovereign Lord of All, 
Before thy throne archangels fall. 
And holy seraphs veil their face, 

1 look towards thy holy place. 

In Jesus* name I lift my eye. 
The advocate with Thee on high, 

L 3 



122 RURAL POETRY* 

Accept, through His all-hallowM hands. 
The song that Gratitude demands. 

Thy fingers form'd my lifeless mass. 
In comely order 'ere 1 was; 
Then gave a soul that ne'er can die, 
A spark of immortality. 

Thou took'st me safely from the womb, 
(Mysterious nature's living tomb), 
W^tch'd o'er my weak infantile years, 
Supplied my wants, and calm'd my fears. 

Though thy omniscience well foresaw 
I'd prove a rebel to thy law, 
Yet thou sustain'dst my childish paths, 
And sav'd me from a thousand deaths. 

Thou causedst air, and fire, and flood. 
All minister to me for good; 
With countless blessings strew'd my path;— 
How great thy love ! how slow thy wrath ! 

For oh! thou know'st, all-seeing mind! 
My wicked heart, perverse and blind. 
Pursued each foolish hurtful lust, 
And spurn'd thy law, though good and just. 

How foul, how deep, my hateful sin! 
DefiPd without; defil'd within; 
Thy calls rcfus'd; thy grace defied; — * 
But Jesus for such sinners died. 

Amazing truth! my only plea; 
In Him there's mercy found with theej 
And hardened sinners, such as I, 
Are all invited to apply. 



RURAL roiiirRV. 123 

How great thy kindness to me shown I 
Born in a land where thou art known; 
And in an age when heathen night 
Is fled before thy holy light; 

Allowed to hear the joyful sound 
In Zion's hallow'd courts resound, 
Where thy ow^n Word a lamp is given, 
To guide the wearv soul to Heaven. 

Tho' black with crimes my thoughtless youth, 
Spurning thy mercy and thy truth; 
Yet thou hast lengthened out my span, 
Preserved and led me up to man. 

Giver of Good ! by thee bestow'd 
What blessings in my cup have flowM ! 
Thou stor^'dst with Reason's powers my mind; 
Gave friends sincere — relations kind. 

Nightly thy blessing, balmy sleep, 
Bedews my powers in slumber sweet; 
Invigorates my languid frame, 
Till day-spring give thy light again. 

'Tis Thou that guard'st my sleeping hours. 
And keeps me safe from hellish powers. 
And thousand ministers of Death, 
Forever round my bed and path. 

O Thou that cloth'stthe lily fair! 
Thy food and raiment too I share; 
And thy prime blessing, rosy health, 
More precious far than worlds of wealth. 

" Thou dost not willingly afflict;'^ 

What time thou rais'dst thy hand to strike. 



s 



124< , RURAL POETRY. 

Though great my fears, thy stroke was mild, 
Like father's on his only child. 

Yet well thou know'st, for thou hast seen. 
How proud, presumptuous, I have been; 
Long suffering thou, and slow to wrath. 
Or I had been in hell beneath. 

*« My soul thou hast restored again,*' 
RemovM my sicknesses and pain; 
And rais'd me up again to see 
Sweet Nature's works all tell of thee. 

But who thy mercies can recount! 
Oh who can tell their vast amount! 
Not long eternity can shew 
How much to thee, Great God! I owe. 

And O my soul how canst thou raise 
An equal note of grateful praise 
To Him who died thee to restore; 
He gave himself — what could he more? 

Father of Light ! thy grace impart; 
Subdue my proud rebellious heart; 
Corrupt I am — unwilling — ^weak — 
Work thou the work, for Jesus' sake. 

For ah! unless thy arm sustain, 
My purposes are weak and vain. 
Enlarge my heart to run thy ways. 
Then shall my lips proclaim thy praise. 



RURAL POETRY/ 125 



Paraphrase on John vi. 37. 



'^ All whom the Father hath given me shall come unto 
me, and whosoever cometh unto me I will in no wi»se 
cast out." 



Here encouragement divine, 
Grace and sovereignty shine, 
Righteousness and smiling Peace, 
Mercy, Love and Truth embrace} 
Ming*ling sweet, they brightly glow 
Like the iiues of hsaven^s bow; 
All the purchase of the Son; 
All the Father's gift shall come; 
Come and own His saving power 
In a blest conversion hour. 
Grace almighty shall prevail. 
For His counsels never fail; 
" The election shall obtain;'* 
All resistance weak and vain; 
Stubborn unbelief must yield; 
Satan, vanquished, quit the field; 
Jesus proves the sinners' stay, 
Never more to fall away; 
Never, never to remove; 
His is an unchanging love; 
Never can its like be founjl, 
Search the broad Creation round; 
Wrath divine he underweut, 



126 RURAL POETRY. 

And to Mercy op*d a vent. 
Full and free the blessing flows 
Like the fountain whence it rose. 
Mercy! hear her heavenly voice — 
Hear it, sinners, and rejoice: 
Men of every age and nation 
Welcome to this great Salvation, 
Sinners, even the very chief. 
Hither come and find relief; 
To the sinners' friend apply, 
Kind his heart and kind his eyej 
Never will He say you nay — 
No — He hates to put away. 

Be your sins of crimson grain. 
Or like scarlet's deeper stain. 
Washed in the purple flood 
Of atoning cleansing blood. 
Suddenly you shall appear 
Bright as wings of angels are; 
In imputed merit^s glow. 
Fairer than the whitest snow; 
Not for w^orks that you have done. 
Not for goodness of jour own; 
Dead in sin, and almost lost. 
You, alas! have none to boast. 
AU is Grace and Love divine — 
Hear-^believe-^and all is thine.** 



RURAL POETRY. 127 



Lines on the Death of my Son^ 

AGED 22 MONTHS. 

Farewell, my child! thy father's love, 
Alas! cannot avert thy doom; 
The Mandate 's come from courts above. 
And thou must fill an early tomb. 

Thy Parents oft with joy beheld 

Thy tresses fair, and azure ejes; 

How mild thy look! (now dark and wild 

The clouds that veil their summer skies.; 

Relentless Death! — but what is death? 
A messenger of Jaeus* love. 
To call his friends from w^oes beneath, 
To flourish in his courts above. 

Adieu! perhaps thy spirit mild 
Surveys me from the heavenly plains, 
And calls me up, from this dark wild, 
Where you reside, and Jesus reigns. 



Reflection on the same Subject 

Escaped from violence. 

Thou fairest young blossom. 

How deep the lone silence 
That rests on thy bosom ! 



1^8 RUJIAL POETRY. 

Sound, sound be thy slumbers 
Through all generations. 

Until the last thunders 
Astonish the nations. 

Then thou, fairest creature! 

Shall wake to behold him 
Who died in thy nature — 

The heavens shall unfold him. 

His bright wheels careering 
Shall lighten creation; 

His glorious appearing 
Shall crown thy salvation. 

Rescued from corruption. 
Confirmed in his favour; 

Without interuption 

Thou'lt praise him fbrever. 



'^^%^'% v-\ «^ %% 



Isaiah^ Chapter xxxv. paraphrased. 

Lo! the wilderness shall blossom, 

And the lonely desart sing, 
Sweet ao Sharon's roseate bosom, 

'Midst the opening blooms of spring. 

Lofty CarmePs rural graces, 
Lebanon's umbrageous shade, 

Soon shall cheer the lone recesses, 
And embower the sultry glade. 

God^s own glory thus unfolded, 
Brightly streaming from ou high. 



RURAL POETRY. 129 

Every eye shall soon behold it, 
And his fair excellency. 

Say to them whose hearts are fearful. 

Timid souls ! be strong in God; 
Weak and feeble ones! be cheerfulj 

Lean on this supporting rod. 

For behold! Jehovah cometh; 

Vengeance stalks before his throne. 
To each soul of man that sinnethj 

And Salvation to his own. 

Come, ye mourners! banish sadness; 

Pleasures hei'e, unfading, spring; 
Even the lame shall leap with gladness. 

And the dumb enraptur'd sing. 

Then the gates of light, unlocked, 

Marks the waste with verdure crown'd; 

And the deafen'd ear, unstopped. 
Listens glad the streamlet's sound. 

Where the lonely traveler, 'nighted. 
Darkly roam'd, with troubled soul. 

Listening oft, with ear affrighted. 
Dragons hiss, and Tygers howlj 

There, the shepherd's eye delighting, 

Streams shall cheer the woodland haunts; 

Dewy meads, the flocks inviting. 
Stretch along their lillied banks. 

There a way, divinely holy! 

Through the tangling wild shall leadj 
Even the simple child of folly. 

Walking there, is safe indeed. 

M 



130 RURAL POETRY* 

There no hungry lion prowling; 

There no foot unclean shall tread; 
Nor voracious monster, howling, 

Thrill the pilgrim's soul with dread. 

All the ransomM sons of Ziori 

Safe shall hold their destined way; 

Mists of sorrow, pain, and sighing, 
Flee the bright approaching day* 

Crown'd Avitb everlasting joy, 

Soon they^l reach the heavenly plains; 
And their golden harps employ, 

^Singing loud, immortal strains. 



View of Upper Strathearn^ from Turlom. 

What a lovely landscape 1 hail. 
Gay Strathearn! my native vale; 
Seated on this summit high, 
Like a map I see thee lye. 
Sportive Muse! O come along; 
Pour the soft descriptive song. 
Villages invite the eye. 
Waving groves of every dye. 
Glittering rivers sweetly straying, 
Children in the streamlets playing, 
Fleecy flocks on yonder hill 
Crop the juicy herb at will, 
While the lambs in gambols play, 
Brisk as Caprice leads the way; 



RURAL POETRY. 131 

Soft recliiiM on yonder steep, ^ 
See the shepherd, half-asleep, 
Eyes the maid, with beechen pail, 
Barefoot trip the blossomed dale. 
Rural Labour's clieerful sound 
Every where is heard around. 
See, ascend the splendid seats, 
Statesmen', heroes' green retreats; 
There, from court and camp afar, 
Corrupt arts, and frowning war. 
Gay, retir'd, they live in peace, 
And enjoy the sylvan chase; 
Or their leisure hours devoting. 
Useful industry promoting; 
Kind, with condescending smile. 
Cheering the pale artist's toil. 

On the left, the Grampians stretch 
Farther than the eye can reach; 
Ramparts huge, they rise, and form 
Shelter from the northern storm; 
Dark the foaming torrent glides 
Down their rugged heath-clad sides. 
Studded o'er with whitest flocks. 
Harmless sheep, and bearded goats; 
Yonder, where Benvorlich high 
Seems to prop the bending sky, 
Bosom'd deep amid the wild, 
The lake reflects the sunbeam mild, 
Lovely Erne's ample source 
Thence begins its winding course; 
Strong the blooming wildflower grows 
On its banks as down it flows, 
Passing many a jutting rock 



132 RURAL POETRY. 

Crown'd with moss and mountain oak, 
Shady grotto^ that invite 
Shepherds' steps in summer's heat; 
Leaving these rude scenes behind, 
Down the valley see it wind. 
And in sweet meanders rove 
Through Duneira^s charming grove; 
Now along the greenw^ood side 
Rolls its gently murmuring tide. 
Where AbruchePs towers are seen 
On the flower-embroider'd green; 
Still augmenting as it goes 
Downward still the river flows. 
Fed by many a mountain rill. 
Gliding down the neighboring hill. 
Swift it pours along the glade. 
Now ^tis hid below the shade, 
Glittering now it charms the eyes 
*Midst the woods where Comrie lies; 
Romantic spot! thy sylvan dell, 
Where the Loves and Muses dwell. 
Gently rising wood-crown'd hills. 
Mossy founts, and gurgling rills, 
Solemn shades that deep embower^ 
Druids' haunts, in days of yore; 
Purest pleasures to the heart, 
Lovely spot! thy wilds impart. 

Say, what column meets the eye 
On yon windy summit nigh, 
Tow'ring o'er the humble vale? 
Ah! it tells a mournful tale; — 
But the tablet ne'er can tell 
Britain's loss when Melville fell: 



RURAL POETRY. 133 

Oft his frown her enemies felt; 
On his tongue persuasion dweltj 
Ever-changing Anarchy 
FJed the lustre of his eye; 
Science rose beneath his smile, 
Patron of the Muses' toil. 
Mind sublime! thy gen'rous heart 
Patronized each useful art; 
Em'lous of thy deathless fame, 
Britons catch thy patriot flame; 
While thy bays, in Hist'ry^s page. 
Bloom unscathed from age to age. 

Dalginross, immortal plain! 
Now invites the Muses' strain; 
Dim in retrospect she eyes 
Scenes of former years arise; 
Rome! 'twas here thy sons were foiled j 
Here their bodies strew^'d the wild. 
Hark! the gathering bugle strain 
Floating o'er the destined plain; 
Oh! in vain ye urge the fight. 
Vain your conq'ring Eagle's flight; 
These rude hills access deny, 
And their sons your power defy; 
Now I see the squadrons throng 
Form the legion deep and strong, 
Helmets shine, and sabres gleam. 
In the wind the standards stream, 
Spears, reflecting early light, 
Fierce awaits the coming fight! 
Proud men! not long you'll need to wait, 
Soon descends resistless fate; 
Hark! the Pibroch's martial sounds 
M 3 



1^4^ RURAL POETRY. 

Every hollow rock rebounds; 
See! approach, from every glen, 
Chieftains, and their plaided train; 
Dirk in doublet shines before. 
Fierce they grasp the broad claymore; 
Blades that oft in blood have shonej 
Guardians of their mountain home. 
Round the Scottish army pours. 
Grim the front of battle lours; 
Now the rapid onset brave, 
Furious as the ocean wave; 
(Then, sweet Erne! thy limpid flood 
Deeply bkish'd with Roman blood), 
Vengeance flashes from their eyes. 
Loud the shrieks of death arise. 
While the Roman jav'lins rain 
Storms of steel along the plain; 
Vain effort ! yon plaided band 
Defend their homes and native land; 
See their deepening columns form. 
Gloomy as the northern storm; 
Now they burst upon the foe; 
Mark that dread decisive blow; 
Rome, ere while firm as a rock, 
ReeFd at once before the shock; 
Swift their scattered squadrons fly. 
And shouts of victory rend the sky. 
Thus a mountain, rooted fast. 
Scorns the wave and sweeping blast. 
Till overwhelming Earthquake comes, 
And the pond'rous mass entombs. 
These scenes are past, and hostile gore 
Stains the crystal floods no more; 



RURAL POETilY. lS5 

Yet the heroes' deathless fame 
Still shall shine without a stain. 
Yes! though no marble, tow'iing high, 
Tell where your sleeping ashes lye, 
Yet Morn shall with her tears bedew 
The humble turf that rests o*er you; 
Each passing year Xhe thyme shall bloom. 
And wildflowers deck your simple tomb. 

Cease, O Muse! thy warlike strainj 
See, from yonder woody glen, 
Lednick pours her ample urn, 
Fiird by many a mountain burnj 
Soon its tide and ancient name 
Sinks in Erne's capacious streamj 
Larger now it rolls along 
Th' op'ning valley, clear and strong, 
Watering farms and meadows gay, 
Where the flocks and shepherds stray; 
Now its crystal current roves 
Dark retreats and sylvan groves, 
The blossomed lawn, and cooling grot. 
Loth to leave the lovely spot. 

Forward presses on the sight 
Sylvan Lawers' arcadian site; 
Clathick villa, sheltered warm; 
Scenes where taste and plainness charm. 
There thy tow'ring woods aspire. 
Wild romantic Ochtertyre! 
Mark her copsewood covered hills, 
Spacious lake, and tinkling rills; 
See, across her flowery lawns, 
Lightly bound the sprightly fawns; 
Elegance and ease combined. 



136 RURAL POETRY. 

Here display the owner's mind; 
Nature grand, with Art array 'd, 
Sweet, contending, light and shade, 
Crown the garden and the grove, 
Seats of innocence and love. — 
Round the scattered han^lets lyej 
Clumps of wood arrest the eye; 
Winding riv'let's dewy gleam, 
And the darker mountain stream. 
Forward now I turn my eyes, — 
See, a lovely village rise: 
Crieff commands my wandering strain, 
Queen of the surrounding plain! 
Rising fair, in decent pride, 

On the valley*s north'ren side, 

With thy rural grace and air. 

Sure no village can compare; 

Nor excell thy hardy youth, 
Hands of toil, and hearts of truth 

Sweeter bloom thy daughters gay, 

Than the fragrant buds of May; 

Sportive children crowd thy streets; 

And a thousand nameless sweets; 

Piety, to crown the whole, 

Raising^ above earth the soul. 

Though no ramparts guard thee round. 

Nor castle frown on rising ground. 

Thou art lovelier, by far. 

Thus remote from cruel war; 

Still be Peace within thee found. 

And Plenty ever smile around. 
Low in yon sequestered vale. 

Where the aspen woos the gale. 



RURAL POETRY. 137 

There, Monzie! thy groves arise. 
Of a thousand varied dyes; 
And transparent Shaggy's flood 
Murmurs through the underwood. 
Watering now the sunny glade. 
Gliding now below the shade. 
Westward hastening to meet 
Turret rushing do^vn the steep. 
Whence unto the vale it brings 
Tribute from a thousand springs, 
Foaming o'er their rocky bed. 
By the Naiads duly fed. 
See the sister streams embrace, 
And the rural valley grace. 
Wantoning in many a turn. 
Till in Erne they pour their urnj 
Erne, on whose verdant side 
Sweet Content and Health reside. 

Charming landscape! ever new^ — 
Forward, Fernton meets the view, 
^Bosom'd deep amid the shade 
Of yon forest widely spread, 
Shading deep the tow'ring Nock 
Where the blackbird pours her note; 
There resides a hero brave, 
" As ever knight that belted glaive.'* 
Earth's remotest isles afar 
Shook before this Son of War; 
Now his martial form and mien 
Seems to guard the rural scene. 

Sweetly sheltered Cultoquey 
Now invites the roving eye; 
And Inchbraco's green retreat, 



138 RURAL POETRY. 

Daring Valour's ancient seat; 
Rural Doll'rey^s waving grove, 
Where the wood-nymphs gayly rovcj 
Abercairney's sweet recesses 
On the sportive fancy presses. 
Where the beeches, lively green. 
Weaves a sylvan noonday screenj 
Ancient elms, and ashes tall, 
Raises round a verdant wall; 
While each tree of humbler name 
Chequer o'er the woodland scene. 
Straight below me, sweetly rise 
Drummond towers, and glittering spires> 
Curving lake and woody dell, 
Seem to rise by magic spell. 
Blossom'd parks extended sweep, 
Forests huge embower each steep. 
Green alcoves on either hand. 
Seem the scenes of fairy land; 
All is great and unconfin^d. 
Like the noble owner^s mind. 
Here combine, in rural state. 
Every thing that^s truly greatj 
Warm Benevolence divine. 
Here with Pity sweetly join; 
Join to form the feeling mind. 
Liberal hand, and aspect kind. 
Happy they, of wealth possessed, 
Who study to make others blessed; 
Whose ready bounties still prevent ^ 
The widow's sigh, and orphan^s plaint; 
Who seek the lost, support the weak. 
And soothe the languors of the sickj 



RURAL POETRY. 1S9 

Tlieir works with kind acceptance rise 
To God a pleasing sacrifice. 

See where low on Erne side, 
Broich overlooks the crystal tide; 
A palace seems, in fancy^s dream, 
For the Genii of the stream. 
On the right extended lye 
Orchell moors of purple dye; 
Sheltered sweet among the blooms 
The heath-cock rears his jetty plumes; 
There the hares in safety rest, 
And the wild-fowl builds her nest; 
There a Naiad pours her stream, 
Machany her vulgar name. 
Sweetest stream ! thy flowery braes 
Often charmed my childish days; 
Wandering careless, free of pain. 
Free from any conscious stain; 
Still I love thy humble stream 
More than those of classic fame; 
Still thy thundering fall, and grove, 
Sylvan haunts of youthful love, 
Lofty woods and sheltered farms, 
At every view my fancy warms. 
Thence the valley stretches wide 
To yon southern mountain's side. 
Whose green tops, ascending high, 
Seem to kiss the bending sky. 

Oh ! for thy pencil, Scott ! to paint 
The rural valley^s wide extent. 
Round where'er I turn my eyes. 
Objects gay unnumbered rise; 
Countless beauties meet the eye 



140 RURAL POETRY. 

In profuse variety. 
Sweet as Eden ere the fall; 
Round and round, enchantment all! 
Fair, in Clyde's prolific dale. 
Commerce spreads her snowy sailj 
Rich the produce of the plough 
In Fortha's vale; yet fairer thou; — 
Ne'er can they, though passing fair, 
Boast thy healthy mountain air; 
Never, never charm the view. 
Streams so clear, and * skies so blue;' 
Never can the eye command 
Scenes so soft, so wildly grand. 
As stud thee o'er from side to side, 
With every charm of rural pride. 
Vain, O Muse ! your feeble skill 
Trys to sing each wood and hill; 
See where Erne winding strays, 
Glitt'ring to the sunny rays, 
Through green Innerpaffray bowers, 
Sacred domes and ruin'd towers, 
In whose long forsaken cells 
Grim the rueful spectre yells; 
Verdant lawns extended wide. 
Blossomed, shew their flow'ry pride; 
Fields deep hid with useful grain 
Charm yon ruminating swain. 
Happy tenants of the vale ! 
See their hamlets strew the dale. 
Where the winding ivy green 
Climbs a kind supporting screen. 
Emblem sweet of Friendship's power, 
Steady in the trying hour; 



RURAL POETRY. 141 

'Midst affliction's bitter blast 
Clinging firmly to the last. 

Now the sun, descending low, 
Tinges with a crimson glow 
The light clouds that flit on high, 
AVhile the dy\l streamlets gurgle by. 
See the swain forsake his toil, 
Every object s&ems to smile; 
Now is heard throughout the grove 
Hymns of melody and love, 
While the cooling evening gale 
Waves the treasures of the vale, 
And the birds their notes prolong, 
Chanting sweet the vesper song. 
Charming vale! miay fearless truth 
Still adorn thy blooming youth; 
Oh! m.ay never war's alarms, 
Champing steeds, and shining arms; 
Crimson o'er thy smiling plains, 
Scattering wide thy happy swains. 
May Peace and Plenty smile around, 
And Benevolence abound; 
Soft descending from above, 
Charity and faithful Love; 
Mild Content and Virtue pure, 
And Piety the heart allure; 
May they linger on thy plains. 
And pervade the happy swains; 
Lovely Virtue bless the dale, 
Till old Time itself shall fail. 

Lord of All! supremely fair! 
Deign to grant my humble prayer. 
Let me, free from care and strife, 

N 



142 RURAL POETRY. 

In the valley lead my life. 
Calmly to Thy will resigned, 
Bless'd with sweetest peace of mind; 
Or if so thy will ordain, 
I must wander from the plain, 
On life's troubPd ocean tost, 
Distant far the smiling coast. 
Soon may some auspicious gale 
Waft me to my native vale; 
There, retirM, in lowly cot. 
Cares and wanderings forgot, 
Tune my reed thy praise to sing, 
Bounteous Eternal King! 
And contented close my days; 
Let my latest breath thee praise. 
Now the shadows falling dun 
Warn me Night is coming on, 
And the swelling breezes chill 
Sweep along this lofty hill. 
And the raven wing of Night 
Veils the landscape from my sight. 
Let us now, O Muse! descend; 
Let us to the village bend; 
There partake a frugal feast. 
Blooming Temperance my guest; 
And devoutly lift the eye 
To the Mighty Power on high; 
Then, O Morpheus! shut my eyes, 
Till the dewy morning rise. 



RURAL POETRY. 143 



To Sickness. 



Sickness, dim-ey'd fiend! away — 
Long I've droop'd beneath thy sway; 
Death's dread ensign waving o'er thee, 
Lovely Nature fades before thee; 
Not the rose nor vi'let's bloom 
Can dispel thy deep'ning gloom, 
Nor can Friendship^ Mirth, nor Love, 
Force thy languor to remove. 
Thou repell'st each earthly charm; 
Spurn'st the power of mortal arm. 
Is there then no power can save 
From thy dismal goal, the grave? 
Yesl He lives, at whose controul 
Thou must fly, and leave me v^hole; 
And though doom'd with thee to go. 
Thou art but a mortal foe, 
Vexing the short span of life; 
Death shall end thy ceaseless strife; 
Loosen' d from this earthly shore, 
I shall see thy face no more; 
Landed on th' immortal coast. 
Where no triumphs thou cai:ist boast, 
Join the bright immortal train, 
Far beyond the reach of jmin; 
Where Health blooms on every cheek, 
And no dweller says, *^ I'm sick*" 



144 RURAL POETRY. 



Conclusion. 



Reader! farewell — thy task is o'er — 
I'll trespass on thy time no more. 
Ne'er may thy gen'rous heart repent 
The vacant hour with me you spent. — 
Thus far I've tun'd the rural lyre. 
Rude as my native rocks aspire. 
Unmeet to pour the classic strain 
Like polish'd Learning's tuneful train; 
Yet, as in landscape fair extended, 
Hill, wood and dale are sweetly blended, 
And the brown moor that skirts the scene 
Throws o'er the vale a fresher green, 
S6 may the wild untutor'd rhyme 
Shew splendid essay more sublime; 
The thyme-sprig bloom may charm the eye, 
Yet ne'er can with the lily vie; 
Then O indulge these rudest strains 
That e'er was sung on Scottish plains 
With all their faults, for faults are common 
To man, and sometimes even to — woman; 
And sure 'tis God-like to forgive, — 
Then smile, and bid the pages live; 
So may the Muses bless your store. 
Reader! farewell — thy task is o'er. 

FINIS. 



J, iRASER, PRINTER, 
STIRLING. 



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